J I 


li 


FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 
IN  SIXTEEN  HOURS 


SIR  ARTHUR  WHITTEN  BROWN 


FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN 
SIXTEEN  HOURS 


CAPT.    SIR    ARTHUR    WRITTEN    BROWN,    K.B.E. 


FLYING 

THE  ATLANTIC  IN 
SIXTEEN  HOURS 

WITH  A  DISCUSSION  OF  AIRCRAFT  IN 
COMMERCE    AND     TRANSPORTATION 

BY 

SIR  ARTHUR  WHITTEN  BROWN,  KB.E. 

ASSISTED  BY 

CAPTAIN  ALAN  BOTT,  R.F.C. 

WITH  TWENTY-ONE  ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation 
into  foreign  languages. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

I  SOME  PRELIMINARY  EVENTS     ....  1 

II    ST.  JOHN'S 15 

III  THE  START 32 

IV  EVENING   . .  47 

V    NIGHT .     .  55 

VI    MORNING *  65 

VII    THE  ARRIVAL 75 

VIII    AFTERMATH  OF  ARRIVAL 84 

IX  THE  NAVIGATION  OF  AIRCRAFT.     ...  93 

X  THE  FUTURE  OF  TRANSATLANTIC  FLIGHT.  108 

XI    THE  AIR  AGE            136 


500236 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Capt.  Sir  Arthur  Whitten  Brown,  K.B.E.   Frontispiece 


FACING 

PAGE 


The  Late  Capt.  Sir  John  Alcock,  K.B.E.,  D.S.C.  .       14 
Feathering  the  Wings — Setting  Up  the  Flier  at 

St.  John's,  N.  F 30 

The  Last  Touches — Adjusting  the  Bracing  Wires .       30 
It  Was  Hard  to  Find  an  Aerodrome  with  Suf- 
ficient "Take  Off" 44 

Sightseers,  If  Left  to  Themselves,  Would  Have 

Wrecked  the  Machine 44 

The    Transatlantic    Machine — A    Vickers-Vimy 

With  Roll-Royce  Engines 56 

A  Special  Kind  of  Gasoline  Had  to  Be  Used     .     .       70 
All  Aboard  for  the  First  Trial  Flight     ....       70 

The  Vickers-Vimy  Transatlantic  Machine  in  the 

Air 84 

The  Last  Square  Meal  in  America  Was  Eaten 

Near  the  Wings  of  the  Machine     ....       84 

The  Late  Capt.   Sir  John  Alcock  Just  Before 

Starting 98 

Shipping  the  First  Direct  Transatlantic  Air  Mail  .       98 
Hot  Coffee  Was  Taken  Aboard 104 

Slow  Rising  Nearly  Caused  Disaster  at  the  Start 

of  the  Great  Flight 104 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Lucky  Jim  and  Twinkletoe,  the  Mascots  .      .      .     120 

The  Transatlantic  Flight  Ended  With  a  Crash  in 

an  Irish  Bog 120 

Chart  of  the  North  Atlantic  Showing  Course  of 

the  Flight 136 

The  Men  Who  Worked  Without  Glory  to  Make 

the  Flight  Possible  136 

The  Vickers  Aeroplane  Works  at  Weybridge,  Eng- 
land   154 

Comfort  Can  Be  Enjoyed  in  Air  Travel  Today  .     154 


FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN 
SIXTEEN  HOURS 


FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN 
SIXTEEN  HOURS 

CHAPTER  I 

SOME  PKELIMINARY  EVENTS 

"After  me  cometh  a  builder.  Tell  him  I,  too,  have 
known. ' ' 

KIPLING. 

IT  is  an  awful  thing  to  be  told  that  one  has 
made  history,  or  done  something  historic. 
Such  an  accusation  implies  the  duty  of  living 
up  to  other  people's  expectations;  and  merely 
an  ordinary  person  who  has  been  lucky,  like 
myself,  cannot  fulfil  such  expectations. 

Sir  John  Alcock  and  I  have  been  informed 
so  often,  by  the  printed  and  spoken  word,  that 
our  achievement  in  making  the  first  non-stop 
transatlantic  flight  is  an  important  event  in  the 
history  of  aviation  that  almost — but  not  quite — 
I  have  come  to  believe  it.  And  this  half -belief 
makes  me  very  humble,  when  I  consider  the 
splendid  company  of  pioneers  who,  without  due 

1 


,THE:  ATLANTIC 

recognition,  gave  life,  money  or  precious  years, 
often  all  three,  to  further  the  future  of  aero- 
nautics—Lilienthal,  Pilcher,  Langley,  Eiffel, 
Lanchester,  Maxim,  the  Wrights,  Bleriot,  Cody, 
Roe,  Eolls  and  the  many  daring  men  who 
piloted  the  weird,  experimental  craft  which 
were  among  the  first  to  fly. 

I  believe  that  ever  since  Man,  but  recently 
conscious  of  his  own  existence,  saw  the  birds, 
he  has  desired  to  emulate  them.  Among  the 
myths  and  fables  of  every  race  are  tales  of 
human  flight.  The  paradise  of  most  religions 
is  reached  through  the  air,  and  through  the  air 
gods  and  prophets  have  passed  from  earth  to 
their  respective  heavens.  And  all  authentic 
angels  are  endowed  with  wings. 

The  present  generation  is  lucky  in  that,  de- 
spite this  instinctive  longing  since  the  begin- 
ning of  human  history  for  the  means  of  flight, 
it  is  the  first  to  see  dreams  and  theories  trans- 
lated into  fact  by  the  startling  development  of 
practical  aviation,  within  the  past  fifteen  years. 
The  aeronautical  wonders  of  the  next  fifteen 
years  are  likely  to  be  yet  more  startling. 

Five  years  ago,  before  the  offensive  and  de- 
fensive needs  of  war  provided  a  supreme  raison 
d'etre,  flying  was  but  a  costly  and  dangerous 


SOME  PEELIMINAEY  EVENTS        3 

pastime.  As  such  it  attracted  the  first-class 
adventurers  of  every  race,  many  of  whom  lost 
their  lives  on  weird,  Jabberwock-like  aircraft, 
built  and  tested  before  experimental  data  and 
more  accurate  methods  of  calculation  became 
available. 

But  even  these  men  could  not  realize  the  won- 
derful possibilities  of  the  coming  air  age,  of 
which  they  were  the  pioneers.  Nearly  all  the 
early  aeroplanes  were  born  of  private  enter- 
prise, for  capitalists  had  no  faith  in  the  com- 
mercial future  of  flight.  Very  few  firms  ap- 
plied themselves  solely  to  the  manufacture  of 
aircraft  or  aero  engines,  and  only  two  or  three 
of  the  great  engineering  companies  had  the 
vision  to  maintain  aeronautical  departments. 

Among  the  few  important  companies  that,  in 
those  days,  regarded  aeronautics  seriously  was 
Messrs.  Vickers,  Ltd.  They  established  an  ex- 
perimental department,  and  as  a  result  of  its 
work  began  to  produce  military  types  of  air- 
craft which  were  in  advance  of  their  period. 
Later,  when  the  whirlwind  of  war  provided  the 
impetus  which  swept  pioneer  aviation  into 
headlong  progress,  the  Vickers  productions 
moved  with  the  times,  and  helped  largely  to 
make  the  British  aircraft  industry  the  greatest 


4  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

in  the  world.  Now  that  aviation  has  entered 
into  the  third  phase  of  its  advance — that  of  a 
peace-time  commercial  proposition — they  are 
again  in  the  forefront  of  production.  Inciden- 
tally they  provided  me  with  the  greatest  chance 
of  my  life — that  of  taking  part  in  the  first  non- 
stop flight  across  the  Atlantic.  Since  then  a 
Vickers  aeroplane  has  won  yet  another  great 
distinction — the  prize  for  the  first  flight  from 
England  to  Australia. 

At  this  point  I  desire  to  pay  a  very  well-de- 
served tribute  to  the  man  who  from  the  begin- 
ning has  backed  with  money  his  faith  in  the  fu- 
ture of  aviation.  The  development  of  aeronau- 
tics has  been  helped  enormously  by  the  generous 
prizes  of  Lord  Northcliffe  and  the  Daily  Mail 
for  the  first  flights  across  the  English  Channel, 
from  London  to  Manchester,  around  the  circuit 
of  Britain,  and  finally  across  the  Atlantic. 

In  each  case  the  competitions  seemed  impos- 
sible of  fulfilment  at  the  time  when  they  were 
inaugurated;  and  in  each  case  the  unimagina- 
tive began  with  scoffing  doubts  and  ended  with 
wondering  praise.  Naturally,  the  prizes  were 
offered  before  they  could  be  won,  for  they  were 
intended  to  stimulate  effort  and  development. 
This  object  was  achieved. 


SOME  PEELIMINARY  EVENTS        5 

But  for  the  stimulus  of  these  competitions, 
Great  Britain,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war, 
might  well  have  been  in  an  even  worse  position 
as  regards  aviation  than  she  was.  And  all  who 
flew  on  active  service  during  the  first  three  years 
of  the  war  realize  what  they  owe  to  Lord  North- 
cliff  e's  crusades  for  more  and  better  machines, 
and  for  a  more  extensive  use  of  aircraft. 

Having  helped  to  win  one  of  the  Daily  Mail 
prizes,  I  am  not  going  to  quarrel  with  the  prin- 
ciple of  flying  competitions.  Certainly,  the 
promise  of  reward  brings  to  the  surface  ideas 
and  potential  powers  which  might  otherwise  lie 
fallow ;  but  I  do  not  believe  the  system  of  money 
prizes  for  spectacular  flights  to  be  altogether 
an  economically  sound  proposition.  It  is  not 
generally  realized  that  as  a  rule  the  amount 
spent  by  each  of  the  firms  that  enter  a  machine 
for  such  a,  contest  as  the  transatlantic  flight 
vastly  exceeds  the  amount  of  the  prize,  although 
the  money  reward  more  than  covers'  the  ex- 
penses of  the  aviators  who  gain  it. 

Would  it  not  be  more  practical  to  pay  directly 
for  research  work!  Anybody  with  vision  can 
see  some  of  the  infinite  possibilities  which  the 
future  of  aviation  may  hold,  and  which  can  only 
be  found  by  painstaking  and  properly  applied 


6  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

research.  There  are  plenty  of  men  able  and 
anxious  to  devote  themselves  competently  to 
seeking  for  yet-hidden  solutions  whereby  flying 
will  be  made  cheaper,  safer  and  more  reliable. 
What  is  especially  wanted  for  the  moment  is 
the  financial  endowment  of  research  into  the 
several  problems  that  must  be  solved  before  the 
air  age  makes  the  world  a  better  place  to  live 
in,  and,  by  eliminating  long  and  uncomfortable 
journeys,  brings  the  nations  into  closer  bonds 
of  friendship,  understanding  and  commerce. 

Apart  from  the  honor  of  taking  part  in  the 
first  non-stop  flight  between  America  and  Great 
Britain,  I  am  especially  pleased  to  have  helped 
in  a  small  way  in  the  construction  of  a  new  link 
between  the  two  continents  to  which  I  belong. 
My  family  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  United 
States ;  but  generations  ago  my  ancestors  were 
English,  and  I  myself  happened  to  be  born  in 
Glasgow. 

This  was  in  1886,  when  my  parents  were  vis- 
iting that  city.  I  was  an  only  child,  and  I  was 
so  well  looked  after  that  I  caught  neither  a 
Scotch  nor  an  American  nor  even  a  Lancashire 
accent;  for  later,  between  visits  to  the  United 
States,  we  lived  in  Manchester.  There,  after 
leaving  school,  I  served  an  apprenticeship  in 


SOME  PEELIMINAEY  EVENTS        7 

the  works  of  the  Westinghouse  Electric  and 
Manufacturing  Company.  I  inherited  in  some 
degree  a  love  of  and  an  instinct  for  engineering 
from  my  father,  one  of  the  best  mechanical  en- 
gineers I  have  ever  met.  He  helped  to  develop 
this  instinct  by  encouraging  me  in  everything 
I  undertook,  and  by  making  me  profit  by  the  re- 
sults of  his  experience. 

In  the  works  I  was  for  a  time  a  workman 
among  workmen — a  condition  of  life  which  is 
the  best  possible  beginning  for  an  embryo  en- 
gineer. I  found  my  associates  of  the  workshop 
good  companions,  useful  instructors  and  incor- 
rigible jokers.  My  father's  warnings,  however, 
saved  me  from  hours  of  waiting  in  the  forge,  at 
their  direction,  while  a  "straight  hook"  or  a 
"putting-on  tool"  was  made,  and  from  hunting 
the  shops  for  the  "spare  short-circuit." 

I  was  congratulating  myself  on  making  good 
headway  and,  in  articles  accepted  by  various 
technical  journals,  was  even  telling  my  elders 
all  about  engineering,  when  the  outbreak  of  war 
changed  all  my  plans  and  hopes,  and  interfered 
with  the  career  I  had  mapped  out  for  myself. 
In  fact,  I  was  in  exactly  the  same  position  as 
many  thousands  of  other  young  men  at  the  be- 
ginning of  their  careers. 


8  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Although,  of  American  parentage  and  pos- 
sessing American  citizenship,  I  had  not  the  pa- 
tience to  wait  for  the  entry  into  the  war  of  the 
United  States.  With  an  English  friend  I  en- 
listed in  the  British  University  and  Public 
Schools  battalion,  when  it  was  formed  in  Sep- 
tember, 1914.  And,  although  at  the  time  I  had 
no  more  notion  of  it  than  of  becoming  Presi- 
dent of  the  League  of  Nations,  that  was  my  first 
step  towards  the  transatlantic  flight. 

Those  were  wonderful  days  for  all  concerned 
in  the  early  training  of  our  battalion  at  Epsom. 
In  knowledge  of  drill  our  officers  started  level 
with  us.  Several  times  I  saw  a  private  step 
from  the  ranks,  produce  from  his  pocket  the 
Infantry  Training  Manual,  and  show  a  lieuten- 
ant where  he  had  gone  wrong.  Doubtful  disci- 
pline, perhaps — but  excellent  practice,  for  most 
of  the  original  privates  of  the  U.P.S.  soon  be- 
came officers  of  the  New  Army. 

I  was  gazetted  a  second  lieutenant  of  the 
Manchester  Eegiment  in  January,  1915,  and 
with  it  saw  service  in  the  trenches  before  Ypres 
and  on  the  Somme.  Then  came  the  second  step 
towards  the  transatlantic  flight.  I  had  always 
longed  to  be  in  the  air,  and  I  obtained  a  trans- 
fer to  the  Eoyal  Flying  Corps  as  an  observer. 


SOME  PRELIMINABY  EVENTS        9 

I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  posted  to  No.  2 
Squadron,  under  Major  (now  General)  Becke. 
While  in  this  unit  I  first  experienced  the  mixed 
sensations  of  being  shot  down.  One  day  my 
pilot  and  I  were  carrying  out  artillery  observa- 
tion over  Vendin  la  Vielle  when,  at  a  height  of 
8,000  feet,  two  anti-aircraft  shells  set  our  ma- 
chine on  fire.  Somehow,  the  pilot  managed  to 
bring  down  his  craft  in  the  British  lines ;  but  in 
landing  it  tripped  over  some  telephone  wires 
and  turned  a  somersault,  still  blazing  at  various 
points.  We  were  thrown  out,  but  escaped  with 
a  few  burns  and  bruises. 

After  a  short  rest  in  England  I  returned  to 
the  squadron.  I  soon  left  it  for  good,  however. 
One  dull,  snowy  day  a  bullet  perforated  the 
petrol  tank  of  the  machine  in  which,  with  Lieut. 
Medlicott,  I  was  reconnoitering  behind  the  en- 
emy lines.  As  a  result  we  were  unable  to  reach 
the  British  zone.  We  landed  in  occupied  ter- 
ritory; and  I  knew  the  deadly  heart-sickness 
which  comes  to  all  prisoners  of  war  during  the 
first  few  days  of  their  captivity. 

I  was  repatriated  after  being  a  prisoner  of 
war  in  Germany  for  fourteen  months,  followed 
by  nine  months  in  Switzerland.  Medlicott, 
meanwhile,  made  thirteen  determined  but  un- 


10  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

successful  bids  for  escape  before  being  mur- 
dered by  the  Germans  in  1918,  while  indulging 
in  a  fourteenth  attempt. 

My  two  years  of  captivity  constituted,  strange 
to  say,  the  third  step  towards  the  transatlantic 
flight;  for  it  was  as  a  prisoner  of  war  that  I 
first  found  time  to  begin  a  careful  study  of  the 
possibilities  of  aerial  navigation.  This  I  con- 
tinued after  returning  to  London,  where,  at  the 
Ministry  of  Munitions,  I  was  employed  in  the 
production  of  the  larger  aero-engines. 

When,  soon  after  the  armistice,  the  ban  on 
attempts  to  fly  the  Atlantic  was  lifted,  I  hoped 
that  my  studies  of  aerial  navigation  might  be 
useful  to  one  of  the  firms  who  were  preparing 
for  such  a  flight.  Each  one  I  approached,  how- 
ever, refused  my  proposals,  and  for  the  moment 
I  gave  up  the  idea. 

It  was  entirely  by  chance  that  I  became  in- 
volved in  the  transatlantic  competition.  One 
day  I  visited  the  works  at  Weybridge  of  Messrs. 
Vickers.  While  I  was  talking  with  the  super- 
intendent, Captain  Alcock  walked  into  the  of- 
fice. We  were  introduced,  and  in  the  course  of 
conversation  the  competition  was  mentioned.  I 
then  learned,  for  the  first  time,  that  Messrs. 
Vickers  were  considering  an  entry,  although  not 


SOME  PEELIMINAEY  EVENTS      11 

courting  publicity  until  they  should  have  at- 
tempted it. 

I  sat  up  and  began  to  take  notice,  and  ven- 
tured to  put  forward  my  views  on  the  naviga- 
tion of  aircraft  for  long  flights  over  the  sea. 
These  were  received  favorably,  and  the  outcome 
of  the  fortunate  meeting  was  that  Messrs.  Vick- 
ers  retained  me  to  act  as  aerial  navigator. 

I  soon  learned  to  have  every  confidence  in 
the  man  who  was  to  be  my  pilot.  He  flew  for 
years  before  the  war,  and  he  had  a  magnificent 
record  for  long-distance  flying  when  engaged  in 
bombing  Constantinople  and  other  parts  of  Tur- 
key, with  the  detachments  of  the  Eoyal  Naval 
Air  Service  in  the  Eastern  Mediterranean.  His 
recent  death  in  a  flying  accident  took  from  avi- 
ation one  of  its  most  able,  experienced  and 
courageous  pilots,  and  robbed  his  many  friends 
of  a  splendid  man. 

We  set  to  work,  and,  with  every  assistance 
from  the  Air  Ministry,  and  the  Admiralty,  we 
soon  had  our  apparatus  and  instruments  ready 
for  shipment  to  Newfoundland.  Besides  our 
two  selves  the  Vickers  transatlantic  party  con- 
sisted of  ten  other  men  from  the  works,  and  a 
specialist  on  Eolls-Eoyce  aero-engines. 

Alcock  and  I  sailed  from  Southampton  on  the 


12  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Mauretania,  on  board  of  which  its  commander 
— Captain  Eostron — made  me  free  of  his 
bridge,  and,  as  a  widely  experienced  navigator, 
gave  me  much  good  advice.  The  Vickers-Vimy 
machine,  with  all  stores,  left  later  by  a  freight 
boat. 

From  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  we  proceeded  to 
Port  aux  Basques,  and  thence  by  way  of  the 
Eeid  Newfoundland  Eailway  to  St.  John's. 
There,  we  joined  the  merry  and  hopeful  com- 
pany of  British  aviators  who,  long  before  we 
arrived,  had  been  preparing  for  an  attempt  to 
win  Lord  Northcliffe's  prize. 

That  four  of  them  did  not  forestall  us  was 
due  in  part  to  very  bad  luck,  and  in  part  to  their 
whole-hearted  patriotism.  They  wanted  for 
their  country  the  honor  of  the  first  transatlantic 
flight,  whether  non-stop  or  otherwise;  and,  be- 
ing unable  to  continue  the  wearisome  wait  for 
good  weather  in  face  of  the  news  that  the  Amer- 
ican flying  boat  N.C.4  had  reached  the  Azores, 
they  made  their  attempt  under  conditions  that 
were  definitely  unfavorable.  Fate  tripped  up 
Eaynham  and  Morgan  at  the  start,  when  they 
tried  to  take  their  heavily-laden  machine  into 
the  air  while  running  over  a  too  short  space  of 
uneven  ground,  with  the  wind  crossways  to  it. 


SOME  PRELIMINARY  EVENTS      13 

Fate  allowed  Hawker  and  Grieve  a  rather 
longer  run,  but  brought  about  their  fall  when 
they  were  half-way  to  success,  owing  to  a  mis- 
hap which,  though  trifling,  had  the  same  effect 
as  a  vital  breakage. 

It  is  superfluous,  at  this  time  of  day,  to  offer 
public  sympathy  to  such  gallant  competitors; 
but  I  seize  the  opportunity  of  expressing  ad- 
miration for  their  splendid  effort,  and  for  the 
spirit  that  prompted  it.  To  Hawker  and 
Grieve  we  owed  particular  thanks  in  that  we 
profited  to  a  certain  extent  by  what  we  learned 
from  the  cabled  reports  of  their  experiences. 
For  Grieve,  as  an  expert  on  aerial  navigation, 
I  have  the  deepest  respect,  and  I  am  in  full  ac- 
cord with  his  views  and  theories  on  this,  my  own 
subject. 

The  same  sort  of  odds  against  accident  that 
sent  them  into  the  sea  might  well  have  befallen 
Alcock  and  me.  But  it  did  not;  and  our  free- 
dom from  it  was  an  important  factor  in  our 
good  fortune.  Others  were  the  excellence  of 
the  Vickers-Vimy  machine  and  the  Rolls-Royce 
engine.  Whatever  credit  is  ours  should  be 
shared  with  them,  and  with  Mr.  R.  E.  Pierson, 
E.Sc.,  M.I.C.E.,  the  designer  of  the  Vickers- 
Vimy. 


14  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

We  have  realized  that  our  flight  was  but  a 
solitary  fingerpost  to  the  air-traffic — safe,  com- 
fortable and  voluminous — that  in  a  few  years 
will  pass  above  the  Atlantic  Ocean;  and  even 
had  the  winning  of  the  competition  brought  us 
no  other  benefits,  each  of  us  would  have  re- 
mained well  content  to  be  pioneers  of  this  aerial 
entente  which  is  destined  to  play  such  an  im- 
portant part  in  ^  the  political  and  commercial 
friendship  between  Great  Britain  and  America. 


THE    LATE    CAPT.    SIR   JOHN    ALCOCK,    K.B.E.,   D.S.C, 


CHAPTEE  H 
ST.  JOHN'S 

HAWKER  left  this  afternoon. " 
This  message  was  shouted  by  a  chance- 
met  motorist,  who  held  up  our  own  car  as  we 
were  driving  back  to  St.  John's  from  Ferry- 
land  on  the  evening  of  May  the  eighteenth,  after 
an  unsuccessful  search  for  an  aerodrome  site. 

"And  Raynham?"  I  asked. 

"Machine  smashed  before  he  could  get  it  off 
the  ground." 

We  thanked  the  stranger  for  his  news,  and 
passed  on  to  hear  further  details  at  the  Coch- 
rane  Hotel,  which  was  the  headquarters  of  the 
several  transatlantic  flight  contingents  at  St. 
John's.  We  had  rather  expected  the  Sopwith 
and  Martinsyde  parties  to  make  an  attempt  on 
the  eighteenth,  although  the  conditions  were 
definitely  unfavorable.  The  news  of  the 
American  N.  C.  4's  arrival  at  the  Azores  had 
spurred  them  to  the  great  adventure,  despite 

iff 


16  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

the  weather.  The  United  States  flying  boats 
were  not  competing  for  the  Daily  Mail  prize; 
but  Hawker  and  Grieve  wanted  to  gain  for 
Great  Britain  the  honor  of  being  the  first  to 
cross  the  Atlantic  by  air.  The  outcome  of  this 
ambition  was  the  gallant  effort  that  ended  in 
the  sea,  half-way  to  Ireland. 

While  exceedingly  sorry  for  Eaynham,  we 
were  glad  that  Hawker  had  started,  after  his 
weeks  of  weary  waiting,  and  we  wished  him  all 
success;  for  with  one  exception  there  was  the 
best  possible  feeling  among  the  small  colony  of 
British  aviators  who  had  congregated  at  St. 
John's  for  the  transatlantic  competition.  In 
any  case,  if  Hawker  succeeded  and  we  no  longer 
had  a  chance  of  winning  the  prize,  we  meant 
to  demonstrate  the  high  qualities  of  the  Vick- 
ers-Vimy  machine  by  flying  from  Newfoundland 
to  Ireland. 

"We  had  arrived  at  St.  John's  early  on  the 
morning  of  May  the  thirteenth,  being  only 
twelve  hours  late  on  a  scheduled  time  of  twen- 
ty-seven hours  for  the  journey  from  Port  aux 
Basques.  Thirteen,  by  the  way,  we  regarded 
as  our  lucky  number.  The  construction  of  our 
transatlantic  machine  was  begun  on  February 
thirteenth,  it  was  number  thirteen  of  its  class, 


ST.  JOHN'S  17 

and  it  reached  Newfoundland  on  May  twenty- 
sixth  (twice  thirteen).  Our  party,  with  the  me- 
chanics, totaled  thirteen,  and  we  arrived  at  St. 
John's  on  May  thirteenth.  Later  we  were  dis- 
appointed at  having  to  postpone  the  getaway 
until  June  fourteenth,  instead  of  leaving  on 
June  thirteenth. 

We  hired  a  car,  and,  driving  to  Mount  Pearl, 
began  what  was  to  be  a  long  and  difficult  hunt 
for  any  kind  of  a  field  that  could  be  improvised 
into  an  aerodrome.  The  uneven  countryside 
through  which  we  passed  held  out  no  hopes ;  and 
the  company  we  met  that  evening  at  the  Coch- 
rane  Hotel  (Hawker,  Grieve,  Eaynham,  Mor- 
gan, and  various  officials  and  newspaper  cor- 
respondents) were  unanimous  in  declaring  that 
the  only  suitable  patches  of  ground  had  been 
appropriated,  and  that  we  should  find  no  oth- 
ers near  St.  John's. 

The  American  flying  boats  were  at  Trepas- 
sey,  ready  to  start  for  the  Azores,  and  most  of 
the  American  correspondents  had  left  St. 
John's  to  visit  them.  The  United  States  air- 
ship N.  C.  5  had  flown  to  St.  John's  some  days 
before  our  arrival.  She  came  in  a  fog,  after 
wandering  over  the  neighborhood  of  Newfound- 
land for  some  hours,  having  lost  herself,  it  was 


18  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

reported,  owing  to  an  error  of  180°  in  the  di- 
rectional wireless  bearings  given  her.  She  at- 
tracted large  crowds,  ourselves  among  them, 
to  the  bay.  Later,  we  saw  the  airship  steering 
an  erratic  course  through  the  Gap,  and  men- 
tally wished  her  commander  good  luck  in  his 
transatlantic  ambitions.  Soon  afterwards  we 
heard  of  her  unfortunate  break-away  and  total 
loss. 

The  departure  of  the  N.  C.  flying  boats  sent 
great  excitement  into  the  small  company  of 
Britishers  at  the  Cochrane  Hotel.  Hawker, 
Grieve,  Eaynham  and  Morgan  discarded  cau- 
tion, and  on  hearing  of  the  N.  C.  4's  arrival  at 
the  Azores  risked  exceedingly  their  chances  of 
success  by  agreeing  to  start  immediately,  in  a 
whole-hearted  and  plucky  effort  to  gain  for 
Great  Britain  the  honor  of  the  first  flight  across 
the  Atlantic.  The  result  was  immediate  disas- 
ter for  Eaynham  and  Morgan,  whose  small  aero- 
drome was  altogether  unsuitable  for  a  "take 
off"  into  the  then  wind,  and  magnificent  fail- 
ure for  Hawker  and  Grieve,  owing  to  a  minor 
mishap  to  their  engine. 

Soon  after  the  flight  of  the  American  craft, 
I  met  Commander  Byrd,  U.  S.  N.,  designer  of 
the  bubble  sextant  for  aerial  navigation  that 


ST.  JOHN'S  19 

bears  his  name.  We  had  an  interesting  talk 
on  the  problems  and  difficulties  of  aerial  navi- 
gation, and  I  tried  to  secure  from  Washington 
a  Byrd  sextant.  The  United  States  Naval  au- 
thorities promised  to  forward  one  from  Wash- 
ington; but  unfortunately,  owing  to  transport 
difficulties,  it  reached  St.  John's  after  our  de- 
parture. Nevertheless  I  am  deeply  grateful  to 
the  United  States  Navy  Department  for  its 
courtesy  and  its  offer  of  help  in  an  enterprise 
that  was  foreign  to  them  and  non-official. 

Newfoundland  is  a  hospitable  place,  but  its 
best  friends  cannot  claim  that  it  is  ideal  for 
aviation.  The  whole  of  the  island  has  no 
ground  that  might  be  made  into  a  first-class 
aerodrome.  The  district  around  St.  John's  is 
especially  difficult.  Some  of  the  country  is 
wooded,  but  for  the  most  part  it  shows  a  roll- 
ing, switchback  surface,  across  which  aero- 
planes cannot  taxi  with  any  degree  of  smooth- 
ness. The  soil  is  soft  and  dotted  with  bowlders, 
for  only  a  light  layer  of  it  covers  the  rock 
stratum.  Another  handicap  is  the  prevalence 
of  thick  fogs,  which-  roll  westward  from  the  sea. 

For  about  a  week  we  continued  the  quest  for 
a  landing-ground,  and  we  must  have  driven  over 
hundreds  of  miles  of  very  bad  road.  Growing 


20  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

tired  of  hiring  cars,  we  bought  a  second-hand 
Buick  which  registered  a  total  mileage  of  four 
hundred  miles  at  the  time  of  purchase.  Before 
long  we  were  convinced  that  the  speedometer 
must  have  been  disconnected  previous  to  the 
final  forty  thousand  miles. 

The  best  possibilities  for  an  aerodrome  that 
we  could  find  were  several  level  strips  of  mead- 
owland,  about  a  hundred  yards  wide  by  three 
hundred  long;  whereas  the  Vickers-Vimy,  fully 
loaded,  might  need  five  hundred  yards  of  clear 
run  into  the  wind.  Meanwhile,  although  disap- 
pointment accompanied  us  all  over  Newfound- 
land, the  pacing  out  of  fields  provided  good  ex- 
ercise. 

The  evenings  were  mostly  spent  in  playing 
cards  with  the  other  competitors  at  the  Coch- 
rane  Hotel,  or  in  visits  to  the  neighboring  film 
theaters.  St.  John's  itself  showed  us  every 
kindness.  We  explored  the  town  pretty  thor- 
oughly, and  were  soon  able  to  recognize  parts 
of  it  with  eyes  closed  and  nostrils  open;  for 
its  chief  occupation  appeared  to  be  the  drying 
of  very  dead  cod. 

Having  heard  rumors  that  suitable  ground 
might  be  found  at  Ferryland,  we  motored  there 
on  May  the  eighteenth,  and  it  was  while  re- 


ST.  JOHN'S  21 

turning  from  yet  another  disappointment  that 
we  learned  of  Hawker's  disappearance  into  the 
Atlantic  mists.  Excitement  and  anxiety  about 
the  possible  fate  of  Hawker  and  Grieve  spread 
all  the  world  over;  but  nowhere  was  it  more 
intense  than  among  us  at  the  Cochrane  Hotel, 
who  had  shared  their  hopes  and  discussed  their 
plans.  We  were  a  gloomy  crowd  indeed  until 
St.  John's  heard  the  sensational  story  of  their 
rescue. 

Baynham,  meanwhile,  although  very  disap- 
pointed after  the  setback  that  damaged  his  ma- 
chine, kept  alight  the  candle  of  hope  and  the 
torch  of  determination.  Before  it  was  possi- 
ble to  know  whether  or  not  Hawker  had  suc- 
ceeded, he  made  arrangements  for  repair  and 
decided  to  try  again.  He  also  invited  Alcock 
and  me  to  use  his  ground  for  erecting  the  Vick- 
ers-Vimy.  A  similar  invitation  was  given  by 
Captain  Fenn,  now  in  charge  of  the  Sopwith 
party. 

Neither  aerodrome  would  be  suitable  for  our 
final  "take  off";  but  we  accepted  Eaynham 's 
very  sporting  offer,  and  arranged  to  build  up 
the  Vickers-Vimy,  which  was  expected  to  arrive 
any  day,  on  his  aerodrome  at  Quidi  Vidi,  while 
continuing  the  search  for  a  more  suitable  field. 


22  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Our  mechanics  arrived  with  machine  and  en- 
gines on  May  the  twenty-sixth,  and  we  set  to 
work  at  once  on  its  erection.  This  was  carried 
out  in  the  open  air,  amid  many  obstacles  and 
with  much  improvization,  sheerlegs  for  exam- 
ple, being  constructed  out  of  scaffolding  poles. 
Eaynham  let  us  use  his  hangar  as  a  store. 

All  the  Vickers  party  worked  hard  and  cheer- 
fully from  early  dawn  until  dark,  each  man 
being  on  strenuous  duty  from  twelve  to  four- 
teen hours  a  day.  Two  mechanics  remained  on 
guard  each  night,  while  the  remainder  drove 
about  three  miles  to  their  billets. 

During  the  whole  of  this  period  of  a  thousand 
and  one  difficulties,  each  mechanic  gave  of  his 
best,  and  I  cannot  pay  too  high  a  tribute  to  those 
men  who  labored  for  us  so  competently  and 
painstakingly,  and  yet  received  none  of  the 
glory.  Even  those  who  were  but  indirectly  con- 
cerned in  the  venture  searched  for  opportuni- 
ties of  helping  us.  The  reporters  representing 
the  Dally  Mail,  the  New  York  Times,  and  the 
New  York  World  were  often  of  assistance  when 
extra  man-power  was  required.  But  for  one 
of  the  American  reporters — Mr.  Klauber — we 
should  have  been  obliged  to  start  without  an 


ST.  JOHN'S  23 

electric  torch  when  our  own  failed  at  the  last 
moment. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  nerve-edging  time  until  the 
machine  approached  completion.  Each  day 
produced  some  new  difficulty.  Alcock  kept  his 
head  and  his  temper  admirably,  however,  and 
his  intelligent  supervision  of  the  mechanics' 
work  was  an  effective  insurance  against  loss 
of  time. 

As  the  parts  of  the  Vickers-Vimy  grew  into 
the  semblance  of  a  complete  aeroplane  it  at- 
tracted more  and  more  visitors.  Many  rubber- 
necks, who  seemed  to  have  no  other  occupation, 
spent  hours  in  leaning  on  the  nearest  fence  and 
watching  us.  Soon  we  found  it  necessary  to 
build  a  temporary  enclosure  round  the  machine. 
Even  that  did  not  keep  the  curious  at  a  distance. 
We  remained  unworried  so  long  as  the  crowd 
contented  itself  with  just  watching ;  but  the  vis- 
itors forced  us  to  take  special  precautions 
against  damage.  The  testing  of  the  fabric's 
firmness  with  the  point  of  an  umbrella  was  a 
favorite  pastime  of  theirs,  and  more  than  once 
we  dispersed  small  parties  whom  we  found  lean- 
ing against  the  trailing-edges,  much  as  Aus- 
tralian soldiers  on  leave  from  France  used  to 
lean  against  the  lamp-posts  of  the  Strand.  One 


24  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

man  held  his  lighted  cigar  against  a  wing,  and 
was  quite  annoyed  when  asked  to  keep  at  a  dis- 
tance. 

We  were  still  unsuccessful  in  our  search  for 
an  aerodrome.  One  day  a  telegram  arrived 
from  a  landowner  in  Harbor  Grace,  offering 
what  he  called  an  ideal  field.  Alcock  raced  off 
to  inspect  and  secure  it;  but  when  he  returned 
in  the  evening  his  one-sided  grin  told  me  that 
we  were  still  out  of  luck.  "The  ideal  aero- 
drome" was  a  meadow  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  by  three  hundred  yards — and  the  price  de- 
manded for  its  hire  was  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars  plus  the  cost  of  getting  it  ready  and  an 
indemnity  for  all  damage.  Land  sells  in  New- 
foundland at  thirty-five  cents  an  acre. 

Soon  afterwards  a  local  inhabitant — Mr.  Les- 
ter, who  had  done  all  our  carting — offered  us 
a  field  under  more  reasonable  conditions,  at  a 
place  called  Monday's  Pool.  We  found  it  to  be 
a  large  meadow,  half  on  a  hill  and  with  a  swamp 
at  the  bottom.  It  possessed,  nevertheless,  a 
level  surface  of  about  three  hundred  yards,  run- 
ning east  and  west. 

We  examined  and  paced  out  four  other  fields 
on  the  hilltop,  and  found  that  by  taking  them 
in  we  could  obtain  a  full  run  of  five  hundred 


ST.  JOHN'S  25 

yards.  The  owners  of  this  additional  ground 
wanted  extortionate  prices  for  its  use,  but  after 
much  haggling  we  closed  a  deal  with  them. 

Thirty  laborers,  with  pick  and  shovel,  set  to 
work  to  prepare  the  aerodrome  by  removing 
hillocks,  blasting  bowlders  and  leveling  walls 
and  fences.  Finally  it  was  completed,  well 
within  the  time  for  the  trial  flight. 

During  the  first  few  days  spent  on  the  erect- 
ing of  the  machine  there  was  little  for  me  to  do. 
I  unpacked  and  verified  wireless  and  navigation 
equipment,  and  having  rigged  up  a  receiving 
station  on  the  roof  of  the  Cochrane  Hotel,  with 
the  consent  and  help  of  Lieut.  Clare,  of  the 
Mount  Pearl  Naval  Wireless  Station,  I  prac- 
ticed the  sending  and  receiving  of  wireless  mes- 
sages, and  tuning  in  on  various  wave-lengths. 

Eain  and  high  wind  caused  a  delay  of  three 
days,  during  which  the  machine  necessarily  re- 
mained in  the  open,  with  tarpaulins  over  the 
engines  and  only  a  small  windscreen  to  break 
the  force  of  the  gales.  When  better  conditions 
arrived  the  body  of  the  Vickers-Vimy  grew 
slowly  into  the  semblance  of  a  complete  aero- 
plane, spurred  thereto  by  our  impatience  and 
the  willing  work  of  the  mechanics.  The  wings 
being  in  place,  the  Rolls-Royce  experts  became 


26  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

busy,  examining  and  checking  every  little  de- 
tail of  their  motors,  so  that  there  should  be  no 
avoidable  trouble  on  that  account.  Water  for 
the  radiator  was  filtered,  and  then  boiled  in  a 
steel  barrel. 

Our  day-to-day  watchers  from  St.  John's 
showed  much  interest  in  this  boiling  process, 
and  asked  many  questions.  They  seemed  con- 
tent with  our  explanation  that  we  were  boiling 
the  gasoline  so  as  to  remove  all  water.  Several 
asked  whether  we  filled  the  planes  with  gas  to 
make  them  lighter.  Others  were  disappointed 
because  we  did  not  intend  to  drop  our  under- 
carriage over  the  sea,  as  Hawker  had  done,  and 
prophesied  that  such  neglect  would  lead  to  fail- 
ure. 

The  machine  was  ready  to  take  the  air  on 
the  morning  of  Monday,  June  the  ninth,  and 
we  decided  to  make  the  first  flight  that  same 
afternoon.  We  had  meant  to  keep  the  news  of 
the  forthcoming  trial  as  secret  as  possible,  so 
as  to  avoid  a  crowd.  It  leaked  out,  however, 
and  long  before  the  engines  were  warmed  up 
and  tested  a  large  gathering  had  collected  at 
Quidi  Vidi. 

The  weather  was  on  its  best  behavior,  and 
our  "take  off"  from  the  ground  was  perfect  in 


ST.  JOHN'S  27 

every  way.  Under  Alcock  ?s  skillful  hands  the 
big  Vimy  became  almost  as  nippy  as  a  single- 
seater  scout.  We  headed  directly  westward, 
passing  over  the  sea  for  some  fifteen  minutes. 
It  was  a  clear  day,  and  the  sea  reflected  the 
sky 's  vivid  blue.  Near  the  coast  it  was  streaked 
and  spotted  by  the  glistening  white  of  icebergs 
and  the  evanescent  appearances  and  disappear- 
ances of  whitecaps. 

Trial  observation  with  my  navigation  instru- 
ments proved  them  to  be  0.  K. ;  but  not  a  spark 
could  be  conjured  from  the  wireless  apparatus. 
The  machine  and  motors  seemed  in  perfect 
condition. 

Alcock  turned  the  Vickers-Vimy,  and  brought 
us  back  over  St.  John 's  at  a  height  of  four  thou- 
sand feet.  Newfoundland  from  above  looked 
even  more  bleak  and  rugged  than  it  did  from 
the  ground;  and  we  saw  that  landing  grounds 
would  be  impossible  on  the  eastern  side  of  it. 

We  were  to  descend  on  the  new  aerodrome, 
which  we  picked  out  by  means  of  a  smudge-fire, 
lighted  as  a  signal.  Alcock  made  a  perfect 
landing,  in  an  uphill  direction.  The  Vimy  ran 
on,  topped  the  brow,  and  was  heading  straight 
for  a  fence  on  the  roadside ;  but  the  pilot  saved 
a  collision  by  opening  up  the  starboard  engine, 


28  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

which  swung  the  craft  round  before  she  came 
to  a  standstill. 

We  pushed  the  machine  down  the  hill  to  the 
most  sheltered  part  of  the  field,  pegged  it  down, 
and  roped  off  a  space  round  it,  to  keep  specta- 
tors at  a  safe  distance.  The  proposed  hangar 
was  unfinished,  so  that  the  Vickers-Vimy  still 
remained  in  the  open. 

I  dismounted  the  wireless  generator  for  ex- 
amination, and  next  day  took  it  to  Mount  Pearl 
Wireless  Station,  where  Lieut.  Clare  helped  me 
to  locate  the  fault  and  to  remedy  it. 

A  far  more  serious  worry  now  confronted  us. 
The  fuel  we  had  intended  to  carry  was  a  mix- 
ture of  gasoline  and  benzol,  sent  from  England. 
On  examination  we  found  in  it  a  peculiar  pre- 
cipitate, like  a  very  soft  resin.  It  was  sticky, 
and  had  the  consistency  of  India  rubber  wetted 
with  gasoline;  but  when  dry  it  reduced  to  a 
powder.  Naturally  we  could  not  afford  the 
risk  of  letting  such  a  deposit  clog  our  filters 
and  perhaps,  owing  to  stoppage  of  fuel  supply, 
cause  motor  failure — that  bugbear  of  every 
aviator  who  flies  over  long  distances. 

It  was  not  definitely  proved  that  the  precipi- 
tate resulted  from  the  mixture  of  gasoline  and 
benzol;  but  so  much  depended  on  satisfactory 


ST.  JOHN'S  29 

fuel  that  we  dared  use  none  that  was  doubtful, 
and  we  decided  to  substitute  pure  gasoline  for 
the  mixture.  The  problem  was  how  to  find 
enough  of  the  quality  required — Shell  B. 
Raynham,  as  much  of  a  sportsman  as  ever,  put 
his  spare  stock  at  our  disposal;  but  fortunately 
a  newly  arrived  ship  brought  enough  for  our 
needs. 

Mr.  P.  Maxwell  Muller,  who  had  organized 
our  transatlantic  party,  also  came  on  this  boat. 
He  is  a  rabid  optimist,  with  the  power  of  in- 
fecting others  with  his  hopefulness;  and  we 
were  glad  indeed  to  see  him,  and  especially  to 
turn  over  to  him  such  things  as  unpaid  bills. 

The  second  trial  flight  took  place  on  June 
the  twelfth.  Once  again  everything  except  the 
wireless  apparatus  was  satisfactory.  The 
transmitter  worked  well  for  a  short  time,  but 
afterwards  the  insulation  on  a  small  trans- 
former in  the  transmitter  failed,  giving  me  a 
violent  shock.  After  a  short  time  in  the  air, 
Alcock  made  another  satisfactory  landing. 

By  now  we  were  besieging  Lieutenant  Clem- 
ents, the  meteorological  officer,  for  weather  re- 
ports. Besides  his  own  work  he  had  now  under- 
taken the  duties  of  Major  Partridge,  official 
starter  for  the  Eoyal  Aero  Club  of  London.  As 


30  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

such  he  had  to  place  the  club's  official  seal  on 
the  Vickers-Vimy.  This  he  did  without  any 
superfluous  ceremony,  his  seal  insuring  that  we 
should  not  cheat  by  flying  from  Newfoundland 
in  one  aeroplane  and  landing  on  Ireland  in  an- 
other. 

At  that  period  the  weather  reports,  such  as 
they  were,  indicated  fairly  favorable  conditions 
for  the  flight,  and  we  prepared  to  make  the  at- 
tempt immediately.  At  no  time  were  the  re- 
ports complete,  however,  owing  to  the  delays 
in  transmission;  although  Clements  made  the 
very  best  of  the  meager  data  at  his  disposal. 

We  saw  the  Handley-Page  carrying  out  its 
initial  flights ;  but  we  hoped  to  leave  on  Friday, 
June  the  thirteenth,  and  thus  show  it  the  way 
across  the  Atlantic.  We  worked  at  high  speed 
on  several  last-minute  jobs.  The  compasses 
were  swung,  the  wireless  apparatus  repaired, 
more  elastic  shock-absorbers  were  wrapped 
round  the  axles,  the  navigating  instruments 
were  taken  on  board,  with  food  and  emergency 
supplies. 

But  with  all  the  hurry  and  bustle  we  found 
that  everything  could  not  be  ready  by  Friday 
the  thirteenth,  and  that  a  postponement  until 
4  A.  M.  on  the  Saturday  was  essential. 


FEATHERING    THE    WINGS SETTING    UP    THE    FLIER    AT    ST.    JOHNS,    N.    F. 


THE     LAST    TOUCHES ADJUSTING     THE     BRACING     WIRES 


ST.  JOHN'S  31 

By  Friday  evening  the  last  coat  of  dope  was 
dry,  and  nothing  had  been  overlooked.  The 
only  articles  missing  were  some  life-saving 
suits,  which  we  were  expecting  from  the  United 
States.  Long  afterwards  we  discovered  that 
these  had  been  delivered  to  the  Bank  of  Mon- 
treal, where  the  officials,  believing  that  the  case 
contained  typewriters,  stored  it  in  their  cellars. 

Alcock  and  I  went  to  bed  at  7  P.  M.  on  Friday 
while  the  mechanics  remained  all  night  with 
the  machine,  completing  the  filling  of  the  tanks 
and  moving  it  to  the  position  chosen  for  the 
start.  We  were  called  before  dawn,  and  joined 
them  on  the  aerodrome  at  3 :30  A.  M.  on  June 
the  fourteenth. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  STAET 

ALAEGE  black  cat,  its  tail  held  high  in  a 
comical  curve,  sauntered  by  the  trans- 
atlantic machine  as  we  stood  by  it,  early  in  the 
morning;  and  such  a  cheerful  omen  made  me 
more  than  ever  anxious  to  start. 

Two  other  black  cats — more  intimate  if  less 
alive — waited  in  the  Vickers-Vimy.  They  were 
Lucky  Jim  and  Twinkletoe,  our  mascots,  des- 
tined to  be  the  first  air  passengers  across  the 
Atlantic.  Lucky  Jim  wore  an  enormous  head, 
an  untidy  ribbon  and  a  hopeful  expression; 
whereas  Twinkletoe  was  daintily  diminutive, 
and,  from  the  tip  of  her  upright  tail  to  the  tip 
of  her  stuffed  nose,  expressed  surprise  and 
anxiety.  Other  gifts  that  we  carried  as  evi- 
dence of  our  friends'  best  wishes  were  bunches 
of  white  heather. 

"  Strong  westerly  wind.  Conditions  other- 
wise fairly  favorable." 

32 


THE  START  33 

Such  was  the  brief  summary  of  the  weather 
conditions  given  us  at  4  A.  M.  by  the  meteoro- 
logical officer.  We  had  definitely  decided  to 
leave  on  the  fourteenth,  if  given  half  a  chance ; 
for  at  all  costs  we  wanted  to  avoid  a  long  period 
of  hope  deferred  while  awaiting  ideal  condi- 
tions. 

At  early  dawn  we  were  on  the  aerodrome, 
searching  the  sky  for  a  sign  and  asking  infor- 
mation of  Lieutenant  Clements,  the  Eoyal  Air 
Force  weather  expert.  His  reports  were  fairly 
favorable ;  but  a  hefty  cross-wind  was  blowing 
from  the  west  in  uneven  gusts,  and  everybody 
opined  that  we  had  better  wait  a  few  hours,  in 
the  expectation  that  \t  would  die  down. 

Meanwhile,  Alcock  ran  the  engines  and  found 
them  to  be  in  perfect  condition.  Neither  could 
any  fault  be  found  with  the  gray-winged  ma- 
chine, inert  but  fully  loaded,  and  complete  to 
the  last  split-pin. 

It  was  of  the  Standard  t|rj*e  of  Vickers-Vimy 
bomber;  although,  of  course,  bombs  and  bomb- 
ing gear  were  not' carried,  their  weight  being 
usefully  replaced  by  extra  storage  tanks  for 
gasoline.  One  of  these,  shaped  like  a  boat, 
could  be  used  as  a  life-§aving  raft  if  some  acci- 
dent brought  about  a  descent  into  the  sea.  This 


34  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

tank  was  so  placed  that  it  would  be  the  first 
to  be  emptied  of  gasoline.  The  fittings  allowed 
of  its  detachment,  ready  for  floating,  while  the 
machine  lost  height  in  a  glide.  We  hoped  for 
and  expected  the  best ;  but  it  was  as  well  to  be 
prepared  for  the  worst. 

To  make  communication  and  cooperation 
more  easy,  the  seats  for  both  pilot  and  naviga- 
tor were  side  by  side  in  what  is  usually  the 
pilot's  cockpit,  the  observer's  cockpit  at  the 
fore-end  of  the  fuselage  being  hidden  under  a 
stream-lined  covering  and  occupied  by  a  tank. 

The  tanks  had  been  filled  during  the  night,  so 
that  the  Vickers-Vimy  contained  its  full  com- 
plement of  eight  hundred  and  seventy  gallons  of 
gasoline  and  forty  gallons  of  oil.  We  now 
packed  our  personal  luggage,  which  consisted 
only  of  toilet  kit  and  food — sandwiches,  Caley's 
chocolate,  Horlick's  Malted  Milk,  and  two 
thermos  flasks  filled  with  coffee.  A  small  cup- 
board, fitted  into  the  tail,  contained  emergency 
rations.  These  were  for  use  in  case  of  disaster, 
as  the  tail  of  the  aeroplane  would  remain  clear 
of  the  waves  for  a  long  while  after  the  nose 
had  submerged.  Our  mascots,  also,  were  in 
this  cupboard. 

The  mail-bag  had  been  taken  on  board  a  day 


THE  STAET  35 

earlier.  It  contained  three  hundred  private  let- 
ters, for  each  of  which  the  postal  officials  at  St. 
John's  had  provided  a  special  stamp.  For 
one  of  these  stamps,  by  the  way,  eight  hundred 
and  seventy-five  dollars  was  offered  and  re- 
fused on  the  Manchester  Exchange  within  two 
days  of  the  letter's  delivery.  They  are  now 
sold  at  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dol- 
lars apiece,  I  believe. 

We  breakfasted,  and  throughout  the  morning 
waited  for  a  weakening  of  the  wind.  As,  how- 
ever, it  remained  at  about  the  same  strength 
and  showed  no  signs  of  better  behavior,  we 
made  up  our  minds  to  leave  at  mid-day. 

"We  had  planned  to  get  away  in  an  easterly 
direction,  for  although  we  should  thus  be  mov- 
ing with  the  wind  instead  of  into  it,  the  machine 
would  face  down-hill,  and  owing  to  the  shape 
of  the  aerodrome  we  should  have  a  better  run 
than  if  we  taxied  towards  the  west.  The 
Vickers-Vimy  was  therefore  placed  in  position 
to  suit  these  arrangements. 

But  soon  we  found  that  the  gale  was  too 
strong  for  such  a  plan,  and  that  we  should  have 
to  "take  off"  into  it.  The  mechanics  dragged 
the  machine  to  the  far  end  of  the  aerodrome, 
so  as  to  prepare  for  a  westerly  run. 


36  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

This  change  was  responsible  for  a  minor  set- 
back. A  sudden  gust  carried  a  drag-rope 
round  the  under-carriage,  tightened  one  of  the 
wheels  against  a  petrol  supply  pipe,  and 
crushed  it.  The  consequent  replacement  wasted 
about  an  hour. 

Still  with  hopes  that  the  gale  would  drop  dur- 
ing the  early  afternoon,  we  sat  under  the  wing- 
tips  at  two  o  'clock  and  lunched,  while  conscious 
of  an  earnest  hope  that  the  next  square  nleal 
would  be  eaten  in  Ireland. 

The  wind  remaining  obstinately  strong  dur- 
ing the  early  afternoon,  we  agreed  to  take 
things  as  they  were  and  to  lose  no  more  pre- 
cious time.  At  about  four  o'clock  we  wriggled 
into  our  flying-kit,  and  climbed  into  the  machine. 
We  wore  electrically  heated  clothing,  Burberry 
overalls,  and  the  usual  fur  gloves  and  fur-lined 
helmets. 

While  Alcock  attended  to  his  engines  I  made 
certain  that  my  navigation  instruments  were  in 
place.  The  sextant  was  clipped  to  the  dash- 
board facing  the  pilot,  the  course  and  distance 
calculator  was  clasped  to  the  side  of  the  fuse- 
lage, the  drift-indicator  fitted  under  my  seat, 
and  the  Baker  navigation  machine,  with  my 
charts  inside  it,  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  cockpit. 


THE  STAET  37 

I  also  carried  an  electric  torch,  and  kept  within 
easy  reach  a  Very  pistol,  with  red  and  white 
flares,  so  that  if  the  worst  should  happen  we 
could  attract  the  attention  of  passing  ships. 
The  battery  for  heating  our  electric  suits  was 
between  the  two  seats. 

The  meteorological  officer  gave  me  a  chart 
showing  the  approximate  strength  and  direc- 
tion of  the  Atlantic  air  currents.  It  indicated 
that  the  high  westerly  wind  would  drop  before 
we  were  a  hundred  miles  out  to  sea,  and  that 
the  wind  velocities  for  the  rest  of  the  journey 
would  not  exceed  twenty  knots,  with  clear 
weather  over  the  greater  part  of  the  ocean. 
This  was  responsible  for  satisfactory  hopes  at 
the  time  of  departure ;  but  later,  when  we  were 
over  mid-Atlantic,  the  hopes  dissolved  in  dis- 
appointment when  the  promised  "  clear 
weather "  never  happened. 

The  departure  was  quiet  and  undramatic. 
Apart  from  the  mechanics  and  a  few  reporters, 
few  people  were  present,  for  the  strong  wind 
had  persuaded  our  day-to-day  sightseers  from 
St.  John's  that  we  must  postpone  a  start. 
When  all  was  ready  I  shook  hands  with  Lieu- 
tenant Clements,  Mr.  Maxwell  Muller  and  other 
friends,  accepted  their  best  wishes  for  success, 


38  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

and  composed  myself  in  the  rather  crowded 
cockpit. 

The  customary  signal-word  "  Contact !"  ex- 
changed between  pilot  and  mechanics,  seemed, 
perhaps,  to  have  a  special  momentary  signifi- 
cance ;  but  my  impatience  to  take  the  plunge  and 
be  rid  of  anxiety  about  the  start  shut  out  all 
other  impressions  that  might  have  been  differ- 
ent from  those  experienced  at  the  beginning  of 
each  of  the  thousand  and  one  flights  I  had  made 
before  the  transatlantic  venture. 

First  one  and  then  the  other  motors  came  to 
life,  swelled  into  a  roar  when  Alcock  ran  them 
up  and  softened  into  a  subdued  murmur  when 
he  throttled  back  and  warmed  them  up.  Final- 
ly, everything  being  satisfactory,  he  .discon- 
nected the  starting  magneto  and  engine 
switches,  to  avoid  stoppage  due  to  possible 
short-circuits,  and  signaled  for  the  chocks  to 
be  pulled  clear.  With  throttles  open  and  en- 
gines "all  out,"  the  Vickers-Vimy  advanced 
into  the  westerly  wind. 

The  "take  off,"  up  a  slight  gradient,  was 
very  difficult.  Gusts  up  to  forty-five  knots 
were  registered,  and  there  was  insufficient  room 
to  begin  the  run  dead  into  the  wind.  What  I 
feared  in  particular  was  that  a  sudden  eddy 


THE  STAET  39 

might  lift  the  planes  on  one  side  and  cause  the 
machine  to  heel  over.  Another  danger  was 
the  rough  surface  of  the  aerodrome. 

Owing  to  its  heavy  load,  the  machine  did  not 
leave  the  ground  until  it  had  lurched  and  lum- 
bered, at  an  ever-increasing  speed,  over  300 
yards.  We  were  then  almost  at  the  end  of  the 
ground-tether  allowed  us. 

A  line  of  hills  straight  ahead  was  responsible 
for  much  "bumpiness"  in  the  atmosphere,  and 
made  climbing  very  difficult.  At  times  the 
strong  wind  dropped  almost  to  zero,  then  rose 
in  eddying  blasts.  Once  or  twice  our  wheels 
nearly  touched  the  ground  again. 

Under  these  conditions  we  could  climb  but 
slowly,  allowing  for  the  danger  of  sudden  up- 
ward gusts.  Several  times  I  held  my  breath, 
from  fear  that  our  undercarriage  would  hit  a 
roof  or  a  tree-top. 

I  am  convinced  that  only  Alcock's  clever 
piloting  saved  us  from  such  an  early  disaster. 
When,  after  a  period  that  seemed  far  longer 
than  it  actually  was,  we  were  well  above  the 
buildings  and  trees,  I  noticed  that  the  perspira- 
tion of  acute  anxiety  was  running  down  his 
face. 

We  wasted  no  time  and  fuel  in  circling  round 


40  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

the  aerodrome  while  attaining  a  preliminary 
height,  but  headed  straight  into  the  wind  until 
we  were  at  about  eight  hundred  feet.  Then 
we  turned  towards  the  sea  and  continued  to  rise 
leisurely,  with  engines  throttled  down.  As  we 
passed  our  aerodrome  I  leaned  over  the  side  of 
the  machine  and  waved  farewell  to  the  small 
groups  of  mechanics  and  sightseers. 

The  Vickers-Vimy,  although  loaded  to  the 
extent  of  about  eleven  pounds  per  square  foot, 
climbed  satisfactorily,  if  slowly.  Eight  minutes 
passed  before  we  had  reached  the  thousand  feet 
level. 

As  we  passed  over  St.  John's  and  Cabot's 
Hill  towards  Concepcion  Bay  the  air  was  very 
bumpy,  and  not  until  we  reached  the  coast  and 
were  away  from  the  uneven  contours  of  New- 
foundland did  it  become  calmer.  The  eddying 
wind,  which  was  blowing  behind  us  from  almost 
due  west,  with  a  strength  of  thirty-five  knots, 
made  it  harder  than  ever  to  keep  the  machine 
on  a  straight  course.  The  twin-engine  Vickers- 
Vimy  is  not  especially  sensitive  to  atmospheric 
instability ;  but  under  the  then  atmospheric  con- 
ditions it  lurched,  swayed,  and  did  its  best  to 
deviate,  much  as  if  it  had  been  a  little  single- 
seater  scout. 


THE  STAET  41 

We  crossed  the  coast  at  4:28  P.  M.  (Green- 
wich time),  our  aneroid  then  registering  about 
twelve  hundred  feet.  Just  before  we  left  the 
land  I  let  out  the  wireless  aerial,  and  tapped  out 
on  the  transmitter  key  a  message  to  Mount 
Pearl  Naval  Station:  "All  well  and  started. " 

My  mind  merely  recorded  the  fact  that  we 
were  leaving  Newfoundland  behind  us.  Other- 
wise it  was  too  tense  with  concentration  on  the 
task  ahead  to  find  room  for  any  emotions  or 
thoughts  on  seeing  the  last  of  the  square-pat- 
terned roof -mosaic  of  St.  John's,  and  of  the 
tangled  intricacy  of  Newfoundland's  fields, 
woods  and  hills.  Behind  and  below  was  Amer- 
ica, far  ahead  and  below  was  Europe,  between 
the  two  were  nearly  two  thousand  miles  of 
ocean.  But  at  the  time  I  made  no  such  stirring, 
if  obvious,  reflections;  for  my  navigation  in- 
struments and  charts,  as  applied  to  sun,  hori- 
zon, sea-surface  and  time  of  day,  demanded 
close  and  undivided  attention. 

Withal,  I  felt  a  queer  but  quite  definite  con- 
fidence in  our  safe  arrival  over  the  Irish  coast, 
based,  I  suppose,  on  an  assured  knowledge  that 
the  machine,  the  motors,  the  navigating  instru- 
ments and  the  pilot  were  all  first-class. 

The  Vickers-Vimy  shook  itself  free  from  the 


42  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

atmospheric  disturbances  over  the  land,  and 
settled  into  an  even  stride  through  the  calmer 
spaces  above  the  ocean.  The  westerly  wind 
behind  us,  added  to  the  power  developed  by  the 
motors,  gave  us  a  speed  along  our  course  (as 
opposed  to  " air-speed' ')  of  nearly  one  hundred 
and  forty  knots. 

Visibility  was  fairly  good  during  the  first 
hour  of  the  flight.  Above,  at  a  height  of  some- 
thing between  two  and  three  thousand  feet,  a 
wide  ceiling  of  clouds  was  made  jagged  at 
fairly  frequent  intervals  by  holes  through  which 
the  blue  sky  could  be  glimpsed.  Below,  the  sea 
was  blue-gray,  dull  for  the  most  part  but  bright 
in  occasional  patches,  where  the  sunlight 
streamed  on  it  through  some  cloud-gap.  Ice- 
bergs stood  out  prominently  from  the  surface, 
in  splashes  of  glaring  white. 

I  was  using  all  my  faculties  in  setting  and 
keeping  to  the  prescribed  course.  The  Baker 
navigating  machine,  with  the  chart,  was  on  my 
knees.  Not  knowing  what  kind  of  weather  was 
before  us,  I  knelt  on  my  seat  and  made  haste  to 
take  observations  on  the  sea,  the  horizon,  and 
the  sun,  through  intervals  in  the  covering  of 
clouds. 

The  nagivation  of  aircraft,  in  its  present 


THE  STAET  43 

stage,  is  distinctly  more  difficult  than  the  navi- 
gation of  seacraft.  The  speed  at  which  they 
travel  and  the  influence  of  the  wind  introduce 
problems  which  are  not  easily  solved. 

A  ship 's  navigator  knows  to  a  small  fraction 
of  a  mile  the  set  of  any  ocean  current,  and  from 
the  known  speed  of  his  vessel  he  can  keep  "dead 
reckoning "  with  an  accuracy  that  is  nearly 
absolute.  In  fact,  navigators  have  taken  their 
craft  across  the  Atlantic  without  once  having 
seen  the  sun  or  stars,  and  yet,  at  the  end  of 
the  journey,  been  within  five  miles  of  the  de- 
sired destination.  But  in  the  air  the  currents 
either  cannot  be,  or  have  not  yet  been,  charted, 
and  his  allowance  for  the  drift  resulting  from 
them  must  be  obtained  by  direct  observation  on 
the  surface  of  the  ocean. 

By  the  same  means  his  actual  speed  over  the 
ocean  may  be  calculated.  He  finds  the  position 
of  his  craft  by  measuring  the  angle  which  either 
the  sun  or  a  selected  star  makes  with  the  hori- 
zon, and  noting  the  Greenwich  mean  time  at 
which  the  observation  is  made.  If  the  bearings 
of  two  distinct  wireless  stations  can  be  taken, 
it  is  also  possible  to  find  his  definite  position 
by  means  of  directional  wireless  telegraphy. 

When  making  my  plans  for  the  transatlantic 


44  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

flight  I  considered  very  carefully  all  the  possi- 
bilities, and  decided  to  rely  solely  upon  observa- 
tions of  the  sun  and  stars  and  upon  "dead 
reckoning,"  in  preference  to  using  directional 
wireless,  as  I  was  uncertain  at  that  time  whether 
or  not.  the  directional  wireless  system  was  suffi- 
ciently reliable. 

My  sextant  was  of  the  ordinary  marine  type, 
but  it  had  a  more  heavily  engraved  scale  than 
is  usual,  so  as  to  make  easier  the  reading  of  it 
amid  the  vibration  of  the  aeroplane.  My  main 
chart  was  on  the  Mercator  projection,  and  I  had 
a  special  transparent  chart  which  could  be 
moved  above  it,  and  upon  which  were  drawn  the 
Sumner  circles  for  all  times  of  the  day.  I  car- 
ried a  similar  special  chart  for  use  at  night, 
giving  the  Sumner  circles  for  six  chosen  stars. 
To  measure  the  drift  I  had  a  six-inch  Drift- 
Bearing  plate,  which  also  permitted  me  to  meas- 
ure the  ground  speed,  with  the  help  of  a  stop- 
watch. In  addition,  I  had  an  Appleyard  Course 
and  Distance  Calculator,  and  Traverse  tables 
for  the  calculation  of  "dead  reckoning. " 

As  the  horizon  is  often  obscured  by  clouds  or 
mist,  making  impossible  the  measurement  of 
its  angle  with  the  heavenly  bodies,  I  had  a 
special  type  of  spirit  level,  on  which  the  horizon 


IT    WAS    HARD    TO    FIND    AN    AERODROME    WITH     SUFFICIENT    "TAKE    OFF" 


SIGHTSEERS,     IF     LEFT     TO     THEMSELVES,      WOULD      HAVE      WRECKED     THE 

MACHINE 


THE  STAET  45 

was  replaced  by  a  bubble.  This,  of  course,  was 
less  reliable  than  a  true  horizon  since  the  bubble 
was  affected  by  variations  of  speed;  but  it  was 
at  least  a  safeguard.  Taking  into  account  the 
general  obscurity  of  the  atmosphere  during 
most  of  the  flight,  it  was  fortunate  that  I  took 
such  a  precaution,  for  I  seldom  caught  sight 
of  a  clearly  defined  horizon. 

I  could  legitimately  congratulate  myself  on 
having  collected  as  many  early  observations  as 
possible  while  the  conditions  were  good;  for 
soon  we  ran  into  an  immense  bank  of  fog,  which 
shut  off  completely  the  surface  of  the  ocean. 
The  blue  of  the  sea  merged  into  a  hazy  purple, 
and  then  into  the  dullest  kind  of  gray. 

The  cloud  screen  above  us,  also,  grew  much 
thicker,  and  there  were  no  more  gaps  in  it. 
The  occasional  sun-glints  on  wing-tips  and 
struts  no  longer  appeared. 

Thus  I  could  obtain  neither  observations  on 
the  sun,  nor  calculations  of  drift  from  the  seas. 
Assuming  that  my  first  observations  were  sat- 
isfactory, I  therefore  carried  on  by  "dead 
reckoning, ' J  and  hoped  for  the  best.  From  time 
to  time  I  varied  the  course  slightly,  so  as  to 
allow  for  the  different  variations  of  the  com- 
pass. 


46  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Meantime,  while  we  flew  through  the  wide 
layer  of  air  sandwiched  between  fog  and  cloud, 
I  began  to  jot  down  remarks  for  the  log  of  the 
journey.  At  5 :20  I  noted  that  we  were  at  fif- 
teen hundred  feet  and  still  climbing  slowly, 
while  the  haze  was  becoming  ever  thicker  and 
heavier. 

I  leaned  towards  the  wireless  transmitter, 
and  began  to  send  a  message;  but  the  small 
propeller  on  it  snapped,  and  broke  away  from 
the  generator.  Careful  examination,  both  at 
the  time  and  after  we  landed,  showed  no  defect ; 
and  I  am  still  unable  to  account  for  the  fracture. 
Although  I  was  too  occupied  with  calculations 
to  pay  much  attention  to  moods  or  passing 
thoughts,  I  remember  feeling  that  this  cutting 
off  of  all  means  of  communication  with  the  life 
below  and  behind  us  gave  a  certain  sense  of 
finality  to  the  adventure. 

We  continued  eastward,  with  the  rhythmic 
drone  of  the  motors  unnoted  in  supreme  con- 
centration on  the  tense  hours  that  were  to  come. 


CHAPTER  IV 
EVENING 

FOR  a  time  Alcock  and  I  attempted  short 
conversations  through  the  telephone.  Its 
earpieces  were  under  our  fur  caps,  and  round 
our  necks  were  sensitive  receivers  for  trans- 
mitting the  throat  vibrations  that  accompany 
speech.  At  about  six  o'clock  Alcock  discarded 
his  earpieces  because  they  were  too  painful; 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  flight  we  communicated 
in  gestures  and  by  scribbled  notes. 

I  continued  to  keep  the  course  by  "dead  reck- 
oning, "  taking  into  account  height,  compass 
bearing,  strength  of  wind,  and  my  previous  ob- 
servations. The  wind  varied  quite  a  lot,  and 
several  times  the  nose  of  the  Vickers-Vimy 
swayed  from  the  right  direction,  so  that  I  had 
to  make  rapid  mental  allowances  for  deviation. 

The  results  I  made  known  to  Alcock  by  pass- 
ing over  slips  of  paper  torn  from  my  notebook. 
The  first  of  these  was  the  direction:  "Keep  her 
nearer  120  than  140. " 

47 


48  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

The  second  supplied  the  news  that  the  trans- 
mitter was  useless:  "Wireless  generator 
smashed.  The  propeller  has  gone." 

Throughout  the  evening  we  flew  between  a 
covering  of  unbroken  cloud  and  a  screen  of  thick 
fog,  which  shut  off  the  sea  completely.  My 
scribbled  comment  to  the  pilot  at  5:45  was: 
"I  can't  get  an  obs.  in  this  fog.  Will  estimate 
that  same  wind  holds  and  work  lay  dead  reckon- 


Despite  the  lack  of  external  guidance,  the 
early  evening  was  by  no  means  dull.  Just  after 
six  the  starboard  engine  startled  us  with  a 
loud,  rhythmic  chattering,  rather  like  the  noise 
of  machine-gun  fire  at  close  quarters.  With  a 
momentary  thought  of  the  engine  trouble  which 
had  caused  Hawker  and  Grieve  to  descend  in 
mid- Atlantic,  we  both  looked  anxiously  for  the 
defect. 

This  was  not  hard  to  find.  A  chunk  of  ex- 
haust pipe  had  split  away,  and  was  quivering 
before  the  rush  of  air  like  a  reed  in  an  organ 
pipe.  It  became  first  red,  then  white-hot;  and, 
softened  by  the  heat,  it  gradually  crumpled  up. 
Finally  it  was  blown  away,  with  the  result  that 
three  cylinders  were  exhausting  straight  into 


EVENING  49 

the  air,  without  guidance  through  the  usual  out- 
let. 

The  chattering  swelled  into  a  loud,  jerky 
thrum,  much  more  prominent  than  the  normal 
noise  of  a  Eolls-Eoyce  aero-engine.  This  set- 
tled down  to  a  steady  and  continuous  roar. 

Until  we  landed  nothing  could  be  done  to  the 
broken  exhaust  pipe,  and  we  had  to  accept  it 
as  a  minor  disaster,  unpleasant  but  irremedi- 
able. Very  soon  my  ears  had  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  the  added  clamor  that  it  passed  un- 
noticed. 

I  must  admit,  however,  that  although  my 
mind  contained  no  room  for  impressions  deal- 
ing with  incidents  not  of  vital  importance,  I  was; 
far  from  comfortable  when  I  first  observed  that 
a  little  flame,  licking  outward  from  the  open  ex- 
haust, was  playing  on  one  of  the  cross-bracing 
wires  and  had  made  it  red-hot.  This  trouble 
could  not  be  lessened  by  throttling  down  the 
starboard  engine,  as  in  that  case  we  should 
have  lost  valuable  height. 

The  insistent  hum  of  the  engines,  in  fact, 
made  the  solitude  seem  more  normal.  The  long 
flight  would  have  been  dreadful  had  we  made 
it  in  silence ;  for,  shut  off  as  we  were  from  sea 
and  sky,  it  was  a  very  lonely  affair.  At  this 


50  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

stage  the  spreading  fog  enveloped  the  Vickers- 
Vimy  so  closely  that  our  sheltered  cockpit  sug- 
gested an  isolated  but  by  no  means  cheerless 
room. 

Moisture  condensed  on  goggles,  dial  glasses 
and  wires  when,  at  about  seven,  we  rose  through 
a  layer  of  clouds  on  the  two  thousand  foot  level. 
Alcock  wore  no  goggles,  by  the  way,  and  I 
made  use  of  mine  only  when  leaning  over  the 
side  of  the  fuselage  to  take  observations. 

Emerging  into  the  air  above  the  clouds,  I 
looked  upward,  and  found  another  stretch  of 
cloud-bank  still  higher,  at  five  thousand  feet. 
We  thus  remained  cut  off  from  the  sun.  Still 
guided  only  by  "dead  reckoning,"  the  Vickers- 
Vimy  continued  along  the  airway  between  a 
white  cloud-ceiling  and  a  white  cloud-carpet. 

I  was  very  anxious  for  an  opportunity  to  take 
further  observations  either  of  the  sun  or  of  the 
stars,  so  as  to  check  the  direction  by  finding 
our  correct  position.  At  7 :40  I  handed  Alcock 
the  following  note:  "If  you  get  above  clouds 
we  will  get  a  good  fix  *  to-night,  and  hope  for 
clear  weather  to-morrow.  Not  at  any  risky 
expense  to  engines  though.  We  have  four 
hours  yet  to  climb." 

1  Position. 


EVENING  51 

The  altimeter  was  then  registering  three 
thousand  feet. 

All  this  while  I  had  listened  occasionally  for 
wireless  messages,  as  the  receiver  was  still  in 
working  order.  No  message  came  for  us,  how- 
ever, and  the  only  sign  of  life  was  when,  at  7 :40, 
I  heard  somebody  calling  "B.  M.  K."  Even 
that  small  sign  of  contact  with  life  below 
cheered  me  mightily. 

Throughout  the  journey  we  had  no  regular 
meals,  but  ate  and  drank  in  snatches,  whenever 
we  felt  so  inclined.  It  was  curious  that  neither 
of  us  felt  hungry  at  any  time  during  the  sixteen 
hours  of  the  flight,  although  now  and  then  I 
felt  the  need  of  something  to  drink. 

The  food  was  packed  into  a  little  cupboard 
behind  my  head,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the 
fuselage.  I  reached  for  it  at  about  7:30,  and, 
deciding  that  Alcock  must  need  nourishment,  I 
passed  him  two  sandwiches  and  some  chocolate, 
and  uncorked  the  thermos  flask.  He  made  use 
of  only  one  hand  for  eating  and  drinking,  keep- 
ing the  other  on  the  control  lever. 

We  happened  upon  a  large  gap  in  the  upper 
layer  of  clouds  at  8:30.  Through  it  the  sun 
shone  pleasantly,  projecting  the  shadow  of  the 
Vickers-Vimy  on  to  the  lower  layer,  over  which 


52  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

it  darted  and  twisted,  contracting  or  expanding 
according  to  the  distortions  on  the  cloud-sur- 
face. 

I  was  able  to  maintain  observation  on  the 
sun  for  some  ten  minutes.  The  calculations 
thus  obtained  showed  that  if  we  were  still  on  the 
right  course  the  machine  must  be  farther  east 
than  was  indicated  by  "dead  reckoning. " 
From  this  I  deduced  that  the  strength  of  the 
wind  must  have  increased  rather  than  fallen  off, 
as  had  been  prophesied  in  the  report  of  the 
meteorological  expert  at  St.  John's.  This  sup- 
position was  borne  out  by  the  buffetings  which, 
from  time  to  time,  swayed  the  Vickers-Vimy. 
Up  till  then  our  average  speed  had  been  one 
hundred  and  forty-three  knots. 

I  got  my  observations  of  the  sun  while  kneel- 
ing on  the  seat  and  looking  between  the  port 
wings.  I  made  use  of  the  spirit  level,  as  the 
horizon  was  invisible  and  the  sextant  could 
therefore  not  be  used. 

Later,  I  caught  sight  of  the  sea  for  a  few 
brief  moments,  and  at  9 :15  I  wrote  the  follow- 
ing note  to  Alcock:  "Through  a  rather  bad 
patch  I  have  just  made  our  ground  speed  140 
knots,  and  from  the  sun's  altitude  we  must  be 
much  further  east  and  south  than  I  calculated." 


EVENING  53 

I  continued  to  keep  a  log  of  our  movements 
and  observations,  and  at  9:20  P.  M.  made  the 
following  entry:  "Height  4,000  feet.  Dense 
clouds  below  and  above.  Got  one  sun  observa- 
tion, which  shows  that  dead  reckoning  is  badly 
out.  Shall  wait  for  stars  and  climb.  At  8:31 
position  about  49  deg.  31  minutes  north,  38  deg. 
35  minutes  west." 

The  clouds  above  remained  constant,  at  a 
height  of  about  five  thousand  feet.  I  was  eager 
to  pass  through  them  before  the  stars  appeared; 
and  at  nine-thirty,  when  the  light  was  fading,  I 
scribbled  the  inquiry:  "Can  you  get  above  these 
clouds  at,  say,  60°?  We  must  get  stars  as  soon 
as  poss." 

Alcock  nodded,  and  proceeded  to  climb  as 
steeply  as  he  dared.  Twilight  was  now  setting 
in,  gradually  but  noticeably.  Between  the 
layers  of  cloud  the  daylight,  although  never 
very  good,  had  until  then  been  strong  enough  to 
let  me  read  the  instruments  and  chart.  At 
ten  o'clock  this  was  impossible  without  artificial 
light. 

For  my  chart  I  now  used  an  electric  lamp.  I 
switched  on  a  tiny  bulb  which  was  placed  so  as 
to  make  the  face  of  the  compass  clear  in  the 
dark,  all  the  other  fixed  instruments  being 


54  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

luminous  in  themselves.  For  my  intermittent 
inspection  of  the  engines  I  had  to  flash  the 
electric  torch  over  either  side  of  the  cockpit. 

The  clouds,  both  above  and  below,  grew 
denser  and  darker.  One  could  see  them  only 
as  indefinite  masses  of  nebulousness,  and  it  be- 
came more  and  more  difficult  to  judge  how  near 
to  or  how  far  from  them  we  were.  An  entry  in 
my  log,  made  at  10:20,  says,  "No  observations, 
and  dead  reckoning  apparently  out.  Could  not 
get  above  clouds  for  sunset.  Will  wait  check 
by  stars/' 

An  hour  later  we  had  climbed  to  five  thousand 
two  hundred  feet.  But  still  we  found  clouds 
above  us ;  and  we  continued  to  rise,  so  as  to  be 
above  them  in  time  for  some  early  observations 
on  the  stars. 

It  was  now  quite  dark ;  and  as  we  droned  our 
isolated  way  eastward  and  upward,  nothing 
could  be  seen  outside  the  cockpit,  except  the 
inner  struts,  the  engines,  the  red-glowing  vapor 
ejected  through  the  exhaust  pipes,  and  portions 
of  the  wings,  which  glistened  in  the  dim  moon- 
glimmer. 

I  waited  impatiently  for  the  first  sight  of  the 
moon,  the  Pole  Star,  and  other  night-time 
friends  of  every  navigator. 


CHAPTEE  V 

D 

NIGHT 

MIDNIGHT  came  and  went  amid  sullen 
darkness,  modified  only  by  dim  moon- 
light and  the  red  radiance  that  spurted  from 
the  motors'  exhaust  pipes. 

By  then  we  must  have  climbed  to  about  six 
thousand  feet,  although  my  log  shows  no  record 
of  our  height  at  this  stage.  Meanwhile,  we 
were  still  between  upper  and  lower  ranges  of 
cloud  banks. 

At  a  quarter  past  twelve  Alcock  took  the 
Vickers-Vimy  through  the  upper  range,  only 
to  find  a  third  layer  of  clouds,  several  thousand 
feet  higher.  This,  however,  was  patchy  and 
without  continuity,  so  that  I  was  able  to  glimpse 
the  stars  from  time  to  time. 

At  12 :25  I  identified  through  a  gap  to  north- 
eastward Vega,  which  shone  very  brightly  high 
in  the  heavens,  and  the  Pole  Star.  With  their 
help,  and  that  of  a  cloud  horizon  that  was 

55 


56  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

clearly  defined  in  the  moonlight,  not  far  below 
our  level,  I  used  the  sextant  to  fix  our  position. 

This  I  found  was  latitude  50°  7'  N.  and  longi- 
tude 31°  W.,  showing  that  we  had  flown  850 
nautical  miles,  at  an  average  speed  of  106  knots. 
We  were  slightly  to  the  south  of  the  correct 
course,  which  fact  I  made  known  to  Alcock  in  a 
note,  with  penciled  corrections  for  remedying 
the  deviation. 

Most  of  my  "dead  reckoning' '  calculations 
were  short  of  our  actual  position  because,  in- 
fluenced by  meteorological  predictions  based  on 
the  weather  reports  at  St.  John's,  I  had  allowed 
for  a  falling  off  in  the  strength  of  the  wind, 
and  this  had  not  occurred.  Having  found  the 
stars  and  checked  our  position  and  direction, 
the  urgent  necessity  to  continue  climbing  no 
longer  existed.  Alcock  had  been  nursing  his 
engines  very  carefully,  and  to  reduce  the  strain 
on  them  he  let  the  machine  lose  height  slowly. 
At  1 :20  A.  M.  we  were  down  to  four  thousand 
feet,  and  an  hour  later  we  had  dropped  yet  four 
hundred  feet  lower. 

The  clouds  overhead  were  still  patchy,  clus- 
ters of  stars  lightening  the  intervals  between 
them.  But  the  Vickers-Vimy,  at  its  then 
height,  was  moving  through  a  sea  of  fog,  which 


NIGHT  57 

prevented  effective  observation.  This  I  made 
known  to  the  pilot  in  a  message:  "Can  get  no 
good  readings.  Observation  too  indefinite." 

The  moon  was  in  evidence  for  about  an  hour 
and  a  half,  radiating  a  misty  glow  over  the  semi- 
darkness  and  tinging  the  cloud- tips  with  varia- 
tions of  silver,  gold  and  soft  red.  Whenever 
directly  visible  it  threw  the  moving  shadows  of 
the  Vickers-Vimy  on  to  the  clouds  below. 

Mostly  I  could  see  the  moon  by  looking  over 
the  machine's  starboard  planes.  I  tried  to 
sight  on  it  for  latitude,  but  the  horizon  was  still 
too  indefinite. 

An  aura  of  unreality  seemed  to  surround 
us  as  we  flew  onward  towards  the  dawn  and 
Ireland.  The  fantastic  surroundings  impinged 
on  my  alert  consciousness  as  something  extrav- 
agantly abnormal — the  distorted  ball  of  a  moon, 
the  weird  half-light,  the  monstrous  cloud- 
shapes,  the  fog  below  and  around  us,  the  misty 
indefiniteness  of  space,  the  changeless  drone, 
drone,  drone  of  the  motors. 

To  take  my  mind  from  the  strangeness  of  it 
all,  I  turned  to  the  small  food-cupboard  at  the 
back  of  the  cockpit.  Twice  during  the  night 
we  drank  and  ate  in  snatches,  Alcock  keeping 
a  hand  on  the  joystick  while  using  his  other  to 


58  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

take  the  sandwiches,  chocolate  and  thermos 
flask,  which  I  passed  to  him  one  at  a  time. 

Outside  the  cockpit  was  bitter  cold,  but  inside 
was  well-sheltered  warmth,  due  to  the  protec- 
tive windscreen,  the  nearness  of  the  radiator, 
and  our  thick  clothing.  Almost  our  only  physi- 
cal discomfort  resulted  from  the  impossibility 
of  any  but  cramped  movements.  It  was  a  relief 
even  to  turn  from  one  motor  to  the  other,  when 
examining  them  by  the  light  of  my  electric 
torch. 

After  several  hours  in  the  confined  quarters, 
I  wanted  to  kick  out,  to  walk,  to  stretch  myself. 
For  Alcock,  who  never  removed  his  feet  from 
the  rudder-bars,  the  feeling  of  restiveness  must 
have  been  painfully  uncomfortable. 

It  was  extraordinary  that  during  the  sixteen 
hours  of  the  flight  neither  Alcock  nor  I  felt  the 
least  desire  for  sleep.  During  the  war,  pilots 
and  observers  of  night-bombing  craft,  their  job 
completed,  often  suffered  intensely  on  the  home- 
ward journey,  from  the  effort  of  will  necessary 
to  fight  the  drowsiness  induced  by  relaxed  ten- 
sion and  the  monotonous,  never-varying  hum 
of  the  motor — and  this  after  only  four  to  six 
hours  of  continuous  flying. 

Probably,  however,  such  tiredness  was  mostly 


NIGHT  59 

reaction  and  mental  slackening  after  the  object 
of  their  journeys — the  bombing  of  a  target — 
had  been  achieved.  Our  own  object  would  not 
be  achieved  until  we  saw  Ireland  beneath  us;, 
and  it  could  not  be  achieved  unless  we  kept  our 
every  faculty  concentrated  on  it  all  the  time. 
There  was  therefore  no  mental  reaction  during 
our  long  period  of  wakeful  flying  over  the 
ocean. 

"We  began  to  think  about  sunrise  and  the 
new  day.  We  had  been  flying  for  over  ten 
hours ;  and  the  next  ten  would  bring  success  or 
failure.  "We  had  more  than  enough  petrol 
to  complete  the  long  journey,  for  Alcock  had 
treated  the  engines  very  gently,  never  running 
them  all  out,  but  varying  the  power  from  half  to 
three-quarter  throttle.  Our  course  seemed 
satisfactory,  and  the  idea  of  failure  was  con- 
cerned only  with  the  chance  of  engine  mishap, 
such  as  had  befallen  Hawker  and  Grieve,  or  of 
something  entirely  unforeseen. 

Something  entirely  unforeseen  did  happen. 
At  about  sunrise — 3 :10  A.  M.  to  be  exact — when 
we  were  between  thirty-five  hundred  and  four 
thousand  feet,  we  ran  into  a  thick  bank  that  pro- 
jected above  the  lower  layer  of  cloud.  All 
around  was  dense,  drifting  vapor,  which  cut  off 


60  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

from  our  range  of  vision  even  the  machine's 
wing  tips  and  the  fore  end  of  the  fuselages. 

This  was  entirely  unexpected ;  and,  separated 
suddenly  from  external  guidance,  we  lost  our  in- 
stinct of  balance.  The  machine,  left  to  its  own 
devices,  swung,  flew  amok,  and  began  to  per- 
form circus  tricks. 

Until  we  should  see  either  the  horizon  or  the 
sky  or  the  sea,  and  thus  restore  our  sense  of 
the  horizontal,  we  could  tell  only  by  the  instru- 
ments what  was  happening  to  the  Vickers-Vimy. 
Unless  there  be  outside  guidance,  the  effect  on 
the  Augean  canal  in  one 's  ears  of  the  centrifu- 
gal force  developed  by  a  turn  in  a  cloud  causes 
a  complete  loss  of  dimensional  equilibrium,  so 
that  one  is  inclined  to  think  that  an  aeroplane 
is  level  even  when  it  is  at  a  big  angle  with  the 
horizontal.  The  horizontal,  in  fact,  seems  to 
be  inside  the  machine. 

A  glance  at  the  instruments  on  the  dashboard 
facing  us  made  it  obvious  that  we  were  not 
flying  level.  The  air  speed  crept  up  to  ninety 
knots,  while  Alcock  was  trying  to  restore  equi- 
librium. He  pulled  back  the  control  lever;  but 
apparently  the  air  speed  meter  was  jammed, 
for  although  the  Vickers-Vimy  must  have  nosed 
upwards,  the  reading  remained  at  ninety. 


• 


NIGHT  61 

And  then  we  stalled — that  is  to  say  our  speed 
dropped  below  the  minimum  necessary  for 
heavier-than-air  flight.  The  machine  hung  mo- 
tionless for  a  second,  after  which  it  heeled  over 
and  fell  into  what  was  either  a  spinning  nose- 
dive, or  a  very  steep  spiral. 

The  compass  needle  continued  to  revolve 
rapidly,  showing  that  the  machine  was  swinging 
as  it  dropped ;  but,  still  hemmed  in  as  we  were 
by  the  thick  vapor,  we  could  not  tell  how,  or 
in  which  direction  we  were  spinning. 

Before  the  pilot  could  reduce  the  throttle, 
the  roar  of  the  motors  had  almost  doubled  in 
volume,  and  instead  of  the  usual  1650  to  1700 
revolutions  per  minute,  they  were  running  at 
about  2200  revolutions  per  minute.  Alcock 
shut  off  the  throttles,  and  the  vibration  ceased. 

Apart  from  the  changing  levels  marked  by  the 
aneroid,  only  the  fact  that  our  bodies  were 
pressed  tightly  against  the  seats  indicated  that 
the  machine  was  falling.  How  and  at  what 
angle  it  was  falling,  we  knew  not.  Alcock  tried 
to  centralize  the  controls,  but  failed  because  we 
had  lost  all  sense  of  what  was  central.  I 
searched  in  every  direction  for  an  external  sign, 
and  saw  nothing  but  opaque  nebulousness. 

The  aneroid,  meantime,  continued  to  register 


62  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

a  height  that  dropped  ever  lower  and  alarm- 
ingly lower — three  thousand,  two  thousand,  one 
thousand,  five  hundred  feet.  I  realized  the  pos- 
sibility that  we  might  hit  the  ocean  at  any 
moment,  if  the  aneroid's  exactitude  had  been 
affected  by  differences  between  the  barometric 
conditions  of  our  present  position  and  those  of 
St.  John's,  where  the  instrument  was  set. 

A  more  likely  danger  was  that  our  cloud 
might  stretch  down  to  the  surface  of  the  ocean ; 
in  which  case  Alcock,  having  obtained  no  sight 
of  the  horizon,  would  be  unable  to  counteract 
the  spin  in  time. 

I  made  ready  for  the  worst,  loosening  my 
safety  belt  and  preparing  to  salve  my  notes  of 
the  flight.  All  precautions  would  probably  have 
been  unavailing,  however,  for  had  we  fallen  into 
the  sea,  there  would  have  been  small  hope  of 
survival.  We  were  on  a  steep  slant,  and  even 
had  we  escaped  drowning  when  first  submerged, 
the  dice  would  be  heavily  loaded  against  the 
chance  of  rescue  by  a  passing  ship. 

And  then  while  these  thoughts  were  chasing 
each  other  across  my  mind,  we  left  the  cloud  as 
suddenly  as  we  had  entered  it.  We  were  now 
less  than  a  hundred  feet  from  the  ocean.  The 
sea-surface  did  not  appear  below  the  machine, 


NIGHT  63 

but,  owing  to  the  wide  angle  at  wMch  we  were 
tilted  against  the  horizontal,  seemed  to  stand  up 
level,  sideways  to  us. 

Alcock  looked  at  the  ocean  and  the  horizon, 
and  almost  instantaneously  regained  his  mental 
equilibrium  in  relation  to  external  balance. 
Fortunately  the  Vickers-Vimy  maneuvers 
quickly,  and  it  responded  rapidly  to  Alcock 's 
action  in  centralizing  the  control  lever  and  rud- 
der bar.  He  opened  up  the  throttles.  The 
motors  came  back  to  life,  and  the  danger  was 
past.  Once  again  disaster  had  been  averted 
by  the  pilot's  level-headedness  and  skill. 

When  at  last  the  machine  swung  back  to 
the  level  and  flew  parallel  with  the  Atlantic, 
our  height  was  fifty  feet.  It  appeared  as  if  we 
could  stretch  downward  and  almost  touch  the 
great  whitecaps  that  crested  the  surface.  With 
the  motors  shut  off  we  could  actually  hear  the 
voice  of  the  cheated  ocean  as  its  waves  swelled, 
broke,  and  swelled  again. 

The  compass  needle,  which  had  continued  to 
swing,  now  stabilized  itself  and  quivered  toward 
the  west,  showing  that  the  end  of  the  spin  left 
us  facing  America.  As  we  did  not  want  to 
return  to  St.  John's,  and  earnestly  wanted  to 


64  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

reach  Ireland,  Alcock  turned  the  machine  in  a 
wide  semi-circle  and  headed  eastward,  while 
climbing  away  from  the  ocean  and  towards  the 
lowest  clouds. 


CHAPTEE  VI 
MORNING 

OUNEISE  made  itself  known  to  us  merely  as 
O  a  gradual  lightening  that  showed  nothing 
but  clouds,  above  and  below.  The  sun  itself 
was  nowhere  visible. 

We  seemed  to  be  flying  in  and  out  of  dense 
patches  of  cloud;  for  every  now  and  then  we 
would  pass  through  a  white  mountain,  emerge 
into  a  small  area  of  clear  atmosphere,  and  then 
be  confronted  with  another  enormous  barrier 
of  nebulousness. 

The  indefiniteness  of  dawn  disappointed  my 
hopes  of  taking  observations.  Already  at  three 
o'clock  I  had  scribbled  a  note  to  the  pilot: 
"Immediately  you  see  sun  rising,  point  machine 
straight  towards  it,  and  we'll  get  compass  'bear- 
ings.99 I  had  already  worked  out  a  table  of 
hours,  angles  and  azimuths  of  the  sun  at  its 
rising,  to  serve  as  a  check  upon  our  position; 
but,  as  things  happened,  I  was  obliged  to  re- 

65 


66  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

sume  navigation  by  means  of  "dead  reckon- 
ing." 

A  remark  written  in  my  log  at  twenty  minutes 
past  fonr  was  that  the  Vickers-Vimy  had 
climbed  to  six  thousand  five  hundred  feet,  and 
was  above  the  lower  range  of  clouds.  For  the 
rest,  the  three  hours  that  followed  sunrise  I 
remember  chiefly  as  a  period  of  envelopment  by 
clouds,  and  ever  more  clouds.  Soon,  as  we 
continued  to  climb,  the  machine  was  traveling 
through  a  mist  of  uniform  thickness  that  com- 
pletely shut  off  from  our  range  of  vision  every- 
thing outside  a  radius  of  a  few  yards  from 
the  wing-tips. 

And  then  came  a  spell  of  bad  weather,  begin- 
ning with  heavy  rain,  and  continuing  with  snow. 
The  downpour  seemed  to  meet  us  almost  hori- 
zontally, owing  to  the  high  speed  of  the  ma- 
chine, as  compared  with  the  rate  of  only  a  few 
feet  per  second  at  which  the  rain  and  snow 
fell. 

The  snow  gave  place  to  hail,  mingled  with 
sleet.  The  sheltered  position  of  the  cockpit, 
and  the  stream-lining  of  the  machine,  kept  us 
free  from  the  downfall  so  long  as  we  remained 
seated ;  but  if  we  exposed  a  hand  or  a  face  above 


MOENING  67 

the  windscreen's  protection,  it  would  meet 
scores  of  tingling  stabs  from  the  hailstones. 

When  we  had  reached  a  height  of  eight  thou- 
sand eight  hundred  feet,  I  discovered  that  the 
glass  face  of  the  gasoline  overflow  gauge, 
which  showed  whether  or  not  the  supply  of  fuel 
for  the  motors  was  correct,  had  become  ob- 
scured by  clotted  snow.  To  guard  against  car- 
buretor trouble,  it  was  essential  that  the  pilot 
should  be  able  to  read  the  gauge  at  any  mo- 
ment. It  was  up  to  me,  therefore,  to  clear  away 
the  snow  from  the  glass. 

The  gauge  was  fixed  on  one  of  the  center  sec- 
tion struts.  The  only  way  to  reach  it  was  by 
climbing  out  of  the  cockpit  and  kneeling  on 
top  of  the  fuselage,  while  holding  on  to  a  strut 
for  balance.  This  I  did;  and  the  unpleasant 
change  from  the  comparative  warmth  of  the 
cockpit  to  the  biting,  icy  cold  outside  was  very 
unpleasant.  The  violent  rush  of  displaced  air, 
which  tended  to  sweep  me  backward,  was  an- 
other discomfort. 

I  had  no  difficulty,  however,  in  reaching  up- 
ward and  rubbing  the  snow  from  the  face  of  the 
gauge.  Until  the  storm  ended>  a  repetition  of 
this  performance  at  fairly  frequent  intervals 
continued  to  be  necessary.  There  was,  how- 


68  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

ever,  scarcely  any  danger  in  kneeling  on  the 
fuselage  as  long  as  Alcock  kept  the  machine 
level. 

Every  now  and  then  we  examined  the  motors ; 
for  on  them  depended  whether  the  next  four 
hours  would  bring  success  or  failure.  Mean- 
time, we  were  still  living  for  the  moment;  and 
although  I  was  intensely  glad  that  four-fifths 
of  the  ocean  had  been  crossed,  I  could  afford 
to  spare  no  time  for  speculation  on  what  a  safe 
arrival  would  mean  to  us.  As  yet,  neither  of 
us  was  aware  of  the  least  sign  of  weariness, 
mental  or  physical. 

When  I  had  nothing  more  urgent  on  hand, 
I  listened  at  the  wireless  receiver  but  I  heard  no 
message  for  us  from  beginning  to  end  of  the 
flight.  Any  kind  of  communication  with  ship 
or  shore  would  have  been  welcome,  as  a  re- 
minder that  we  were  not  altogether  out  of  touch 
with  the  world  below.  The  complete  absence 
of  such  contact  made  it  seem  that  nobody  cared 
a  darn  about  us. 

The  entry  that  I  scribbled  in  my  log  at  6 :20 
A.  M.  was  that  we  had  reached  a  height  of  nine 
thousand  four  hundred  feet,  and  were  still  in 
drifting  cloud,  which  was  sometimes  so  thick 
that  it  cut  off  from  view  parts  of  the  Vickers- 


MORNING  69 

Vimy.  Snow  was  still  falling,  and  the  top  sides 
of  the  plane  were  covered  completely  by  a 
crusting  of  frozen  sleet. 

The  sleet  imbedded  itself  in  the  hinges  of  the 
ailerons  and  jammed  them,  so  that  for  about 
an  hour  the  machine  had  scarcely  any  lateral 
control.  Fortunately  the  Vickers-Vimy  has 
plenty  of  inherent  lateral  stability;  and,  as  the 
rudder  controls  were  never  clogged  by  sleet, 
we  were  able  to  carry  on  with  caution. 

Alcock  continued  to  climb  steadily,  so  as  to 
get  above  the  seemingly  interminable  clouds  and 
let  me  have  a  clear  sky  for  purposes  of  naviga- 
tion. At  five  o'clock,  when  we  were  in  the 
levels  round  about  eleven  thousand  feet,  I 
caught  the  sun  for  a  moment — just  a  pin-point 
glimmer  through  a  cloud-gap.  There  was  no 
horizon ;  but  I  was  able  to  obtain  a  reading  with 
the  help  of  my  Abney  spirit  level. 

This  observation  gave  us  a  position  close  to 
the  Irish  coast.  Yet  I  could  not  be  sure  of  just 
where  we  were  on  the  line  indicated  by  it.  We 
therefore  remained  at  eleven  thousand  feet 
until,  at  7 :20  A.  M.,  I  had  definitely  fixed  the 
position  line.  This  accomplished,  I  scribbled 
the  following  message  and  handed  it  across  to 
the  pilot : 


70  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

"We  had  better  go  lower  down,  where  the 
air  is  warmer,  and  where  we  might  pick  up  a 
steamer." 

Just  as  we  had  started  to  nose  downward, 
the  starboard  motor  began  to  pop  ominously,  as 
if  it  were  backfiring  through  one  of  its  carbu- 
retors. Alcock  throttled  back  while  keeping  the 
machine  on  a  slow  glide.  The  popping  there- 
upon ceased. 

By  eight  o'clock  we  had  descended  from 
eleven  thousand  to  one  thousand  feet,  where  the 
machine  was  still  surrounded  by  cloudy  vapor. 
Here,  however,  the  atmosphere  was  much  warm- 
er, and  the  ailerons  were  again  operating. 

Alcock  was  feeling  his  way  down  gently  and 
alertly,  not  knowing  whether  the  cloud  extended 
to  the  ocean,  nor  at  what  moment  the  machine 's 
undercarriage  might  touch  the  waves.  He  had 
loosened  his  safety  belt,  and  was  ready  to 
abandon  ship  if  we  hit  the  water.  I  myself  felt 
uncomfortable  about  the  danger  of  sudden  im- 
mersion, for  it  was  very  possible  that  a  change 
in  barometric  conditions  could  have  made  the 
aneroid  show  a  false  reading. 

But  once  again  we  were  lucky.  At  a  height 
of  five  hundred  feet  the  Vickers-Vimy  emerged 
from  the  pall  of  cloud,  and  we  saw  the  ocean — 


A    SPECIAL    KIND    OF    GASOLINE    HAD    TO    BE    USED 


ALL    ABOARD    FOR    THF.    FIRST    TRIAL    FLIGHT 


7 


MOENING  71 

a  restless  surface  of  dull  gray.  Alcock  at  once 
opened  up  the  throttles,  and  both  motors  re- 
sponded. Evidently  a  short  rest  had  been  all 
that  the  starboard  motor  needed  when  it  began 
to  pop,  for  it  now  gave  no  further  signs  of 
trouble. 

I  reached  for  the  Drift  Bearing  Plate,  and 
after  observation  on  the  ocean,  found  that  we 
were  moving  on  a  course  seventy-five  degrees 
true,  at  one  hundred  and  ten  knots  ground  speed 
with  a  wind  of  thirty  knots  from  the  direction 
of  two  hundred  and  fifteen  degrees  true.  I  had 
been  reckoning  on  a  course  of  seventy-seven 
degrees  true,  with  calculations  based  on  our 
midnight  position;  so  that  evidently  we  were 
north  of  the  prescribed  track.  Still,  we  were 
not  so  far  north  as  to  miss  Ireland,  which  fact 
was  all  that  mattered  to  any  extent. 

In  my  correction  of  the  compass  bearing,  I 
could  only  guess  at  the  time  when  the  wind 
had  veered  from  its  earlier  direction.  I  made 
the  assumption  that  the  northerly  drift  had 
existed  ever  since  my  sighting  on  the  Pole  Star 
and  Vega  during  the  night,  and  I  reckoned  that 
our  position  at  eight  o  'clock  would  consequently 
be  about  fifty-four  degrees  N.  latitude,  ten  de- 
grees thirty  min.  W.  longitude.  Taking  these 


72 


FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 


figures,  and  with  the  help  of  the  navigation  ma- 
chine, which  rested  on  my  knees,  I  calculated 
that  our  course  to  Galway  was  about  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  degrees  true.  Allowing 
for  variation  and  wind  I  therefore  set  a  com- 
pass course  of  one  hundred  and  seventy  de- 
grees, and  indicated  to  the  pilot  the  necessary 
change  in  direction  by  means  of  the  following 
note  and  diagram : 

"Make  course 


/TO* 


"Don't  be  afraid  of  going  S.  We  have  had 
too  much  N.  already." 

Alcock  nodded  and  ruddered  the  Vickers- 
Vimy  around  gently,  until  its  compass  showed 
a  reading  of  170  degrees. 

My  calculations,  if  correct,  proved  that  we 
were  quite  close  to  Ireland  and  journey's  end. 


MORNING  73 

As  we  flew  eastward,  just  below  the  lowest 
clouds  and  from  two  hundred  to  three  hundred 
feet  above  the  sea,  we  strained  our  eyes  for  a 
break  in  the  monotonous  vista  of  gray  waves ; 
but  we  could  find  not  even  a  ship. 

Although  neither  of  us  felt  hungry,  we  de- 
cided to  breakfast  at  eight  o'clock,  partly  to  kill 
time  and  partly  to  take  our  minds  from  the 
rising  excitement  induced  by  the  hope  that  we 
might  sight  land  at  any  instant.  I  placed  a 
sandwich,  followed  by  some  chocolate,  in 
Alcock's  left  hand.  His  right  hand  remained 
always  on  the  control  lever  and  his  feet  on  the 
rudder  bar. 

At  no  time  during  the  past  sixteen  hours  had 
the  pilot's  hands  and  feet  left  the  controls. 
This  was  a  difficult  achievement  for  such  a  long 
period,  especially  as  a  rubber  device,  fitted  to 
ease  the  strain,  proved  to  be  valueless.  Elastic, 
linked  to  a  turnbuckle,  had  been  attached  to  the 
control  lever  and  rudder  bar;  but  in  the  hurry 
that  preceded  our  departure  from  St.  John's, 
the  elastic  was  cut  too  short.  All  the  weight 
of  the  controls,  therefore,  bore  directly  on  the 
pilot. 

The  machine  now  tended  to  sag  downward, 
being  nose-heavy  because  its  incidence  had 


74  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

changed,  owing  to  the  gradual  alteration  in  the 
center  of  gravity  as  the  rear  gasolene  tanks 
emptied.  Alcock  was  thus  obliged  to  exert  con- 
tinuous backward  pressure  on  the  control  lever. 

I  had  screwed  on  the  lids  of  the  thermos  flask, 
and  was  placing  the  remains  of  the  food  in  the 
tiny  cupboard  behind  my  seat,  when  Alcock 
grabbed  my  shoulder,  twisted  me  round,  beamed 
excitedly,  and  pointed  ahead  and  below.  His 
lips  were  moving,  but  whatever  he  said  was  in- 
audible above  the  roar  of  the  motors. 

I  followed  the  direction  indicated  by  his  out- 
stretched fore-finger;,  and,  barely  visible 
through  the  mist,  it  showed  me  two  tiny  specks 
of — land.  This  happened  at  8:15  A.  M.  on 
June  15th. 

With  a  light  heart,  I  put  away  charts  and 
tables  of  calculation,  and  disregarded  the  com- 
pass needle.  My  work  as  navigator  of  the 
flight  was  at  an  end. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  ARRIVAL 

ALCOCK  flew  straight  for  the  specks  of 
land,  which  revealed  themselves  as  two 
tiny  islands — Ecshal  and  Turbot,  as  we  after- 
wards discovered.  In  his  log  of  the  return 
flight,  from  New  York  to  Norfolk,  of  the  British 
airship  R-34,  Brigadier-General  Maitland,  C. 
M.  G.,  D.  S.  0.,  notes  the  curious  coincidence 
that  his  first  sight  of  land  was  when  these  same 
two  islands  appeared  on  the  starboard  bow  of 
the  dirigible. 

From  above  the  islands  the  mainland  was 
visible,  and  we  steered  for  the  nearest  point 
on  it.  The  machine  was  still  just  underneath 
the  clouds,  and  flying  at  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet;  from  which  low  height  I  saw  plainly  the 
white  breakers  foaming  on  to  the  shore.  We 
crossed  the  coast  of  Ireland  at  8 :25  A.  M. 

I  was  then  uncertain  of  our  exact  location, 
and  suggested  to  Alcock  that  the  best  plan 

75 


76  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

would  be  to  find  a  railway  line  and  follow  it 
south.  A  few  minutes  later,  however,  the  wire- 
less masts  at  Clifden  gave  the  key  to  our  posi- 
tion. To  attract  attention,  I  fired  two  red 
flares  from  the  ^ery  pistol ;  but  as  they  seemed 
to  be  unnoticed  from  the  ground,  we  circled 
over  the  village  of  Clifden,  about  two  miles 
from  the  wireless  station. 

Although  slightly  off  our  course  when  we 
reached  the  coast,  we  were  in  the  direct  line  of 
flight  for  Galway,  at  which  place  I  had  calcu- 
lated to  hit  Ireland.  Not  far  ahead  we  could 
see  a  cluster  of  hills,  with  their  tops  lost  in  low- 
lying  clouds. 

Here  and  elsewhere  the  danger  of  running 
into  high  ground  hidden  from  sight  by  the  mist 
would  have  been  great,  had  we  continued  to  fly 
across  Ireland.  Alcock,  therefore,  decided  to 
land. 

If  the  atmosphere  had  been  clearer,  we  could 
easily  have  reached  London  before  touching 
earth,  for  the  tanks  of  the  Vickers-Vimy  still 
contained  enough  gasoline  to  keep  the  machine 
in  the  air  for  ten  hours  longer.  Thus,  had  we 
lost  our  way  over  the  ocean,  there  would  have 
been  a  useful  margin  of  time  for  cruising  about 
in  search  of  ships. 


THE  ARRIVAL  77 

Having  made  up  our  minds  to  land  at  once, 
we  searched  below  for  a  smooth  stretch  of 
ground.  The  most  likely  looking  place  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Clifden  was  a  field  near  the 
wireless  station.  With  engines  shut  off,  we 
glided  towards  it,  heading  into  the  wind. 

Alcock  flattened  out  at  exactly  the  right  mo- 
ment. The  machine  sank  gently,  the  wheels 
touched  earth  and  began  to  run  smoothly  over 
the  surface.  Already  I  was  indulging  in  the 
comforting  reflection  that  the  anxious  flight  had 
ended  with  a  perfect  landing.  Then,  so  softly 
as  not  to  be  noticed  at  first,  the  front  of  the 
Vickers-Vimy  tilted  inexplicably,  while  the  tail 
rose.  Suddenly  the  craft  stopped  with  an  un- 
pleasant squelch,  tipped  forward,  shook  itself, 
and  remained  poised  on  a  slant,  with  its  fore- 
end  buried  in  the  ground,  as  if  trying  to  stand 
on  its  head. 

I  reached  out  a  hand  and  arm  just  in  time  to 
save  a  nasty  bump  when  the  shock  threw  me 
forward.  As  it  was,  I  only  stopped  a  jarring 
collision  with  the  help  of  my  nose.  Alcock  had 
braced  himself  against  the  rudder  control  bar. 
The  pressure  he  exerted  against  it  to  save  him- 
self from  falling  actually  bent  the  straight  bar, 


78  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

which  was  of  hollow  steel,  almost  into  the  shape 
of  a  horse-shoe. 

Deceived  by  its  smooth  appearance,  we  had 
landed  on  top  of  a  bog ;  which  misfortune  made 
the  first  non-stop  transatlantic  flight  finish  in 
a  crash.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  distorted 
shape  of  the  aeroplane  that  had  brought  us  from 
America,  as  it  sprawled  in  ungainly  manner 
over  the  sucking  surface.  The  machine's  nose 
and  its  lower  wings  were  deep  in  the  bog.  The 
empty  cockpit  in  front,  used  in  a  Vickers-Vimy 
bomber  by  the  observer,  was  badly  bent;  but, 
being  of  steel,  it  did  not  collapse.  Quite  pos- 
sibly we  owe  our  lives  to  this  fact.  In  passing, 
and  while  gripping  firmly  my  wooden  pen- 
holder (for  the  year  is  not  yet  over),  I  consider 
it  extraordinary  that  no  lives  have  been  lost  in 
(the  transatlantic  flights  of  1919. 

The  leading  edge  of  the  lower  plane  was  bent 
in  some  places  and  smashed  in  others,  the  gaso- 
line connections  had  snapped,  and  four  of  the 
propeller  blades  were  buried  in  the  ground,  al- 
though none  were  broken.  That  about  com- 
pleted the  record  of  preliminary  damage. 

We  had  landed  at  8 :40  A.  M.,  after  being  in 
the  air  for  sixteen  hours  and  twenty-eight  min- 
utes. The  flight  from  coast  to  coast,  on  a 


THE  ARRIVAL  79 

straight  course  of  one  thousand  six  hundred 
and  eighty  nautical  miles,  lasted  only  fifteen 
hours  and  fifty-seven  minutes,  our  average 
speed  being  one  hundred  and  five  to  one  hun- 
dred and  six  knots.  For  this  relatively  rapid 
performance,  a  strong  following  wind  was 
largely  responsible. 

As  a  result  of  the  burst  connections  from 
tank  to  carburetor,  gasoline  began  to  swill  into 
the  rear  cockpit  while  we  were  still  inside  it. 
Very  fortunately  the  liquid  did  not  ignite. 
Alcock  had  taken  care  to  switch  off  the  current 
on  the  magnetos,  as  soon  as  he  realized  that  a 
crash  was  imminent,  so  that  the  sparks  should 
have  no  chance  of  starting  a  fire. 

We  scrambled  out  as  best  we  could,  and  lost 
no  time  in  salving  the  mailbag  and  our  instru- 
ments. The  gasoline  rose  rapidly,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  withdraw  my  chart  and  the  Baker 
navigating  machine  before  they  had  been  dam- 
aged. 

I  then  fired  two  white  Very  flares,  as  a  signal 
for  help.  Almost  immediately  a  small  party, 
composed  of  officers  and  men  belonging  to  the 
military  detachment  at  Clifden,  approached 
from  the  wireless  station. 

"Anybody  hurt?" — the  usual  inquiry  when 


80  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

an  aeroplane  is  crashed — was  the  first  remark 
when  they  arrived  within  shouting  distance. 

"No." 

"Where  you  from?" — this  when  they  had 
helped  us  to  clear  the  cockpit. 

"America." 

Somebody  laughed  politely,  as  if  in  answer 
to  an  attempt  at  facetiousness  that  did  not 
amount  to  much,  but  that  ought  to  be  taken 
notice  of,  anyhow,  for  the  sake  of  courtesy. 
Quite  evidently  nobody  received  the  statement 
seriously  at  first.  Even  a  mention  of  our  names 
meant  nothing  to  them,  and  they  remained  un- 
convinced until  Alcock  showed  them  the  mail- 
bag  from  St.  John's.  Then  they  relieved  their 
surprised  feelings  by  spontaneous  cheers  and 
painful  hand-shakes,  and  led  us  to  the  officers' 
mess  for  congratulations  and  hospitality. 

Burdened  as  we  were  with  flying  kit  and 
heavy  boots,  the  walk  over  the  bog  was  a  drag- 
ging discomfort.  In  addition,  I  suddenly  dis- 
covered an  intense  sleepiness,  and  could  easily 
have  let  myself  lose  consciousness  while  stand- 
ing upright. 

Arrived  at  the  station,  our  first  act  was  to 
send  telegrams  to  the  firm  of  Messrs.  Vickers, 
Ltd.,  which  built  the  Vickers-Vimy,  to  the  Lon- 


THE  ARRIVAL  81 

don  Daily  Mail,  which  promoted  the  transat- 
lantic competition,  and  to  the  Royal  Aero  Club, 
which  controlled  it. 

My  memories'  of  that  day  are  dim  and  incom- 
plete. I  felt  a  keen  sense  of  relief  at  being 
on  land  again ;  but  this  was  coupled  with  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  dragging  reaction  from  the  tense 
mental  concentration  during  the  flight,  so  that 
my  mind  sagged.  I  was  very  sleepy,  but  not 
physically  tired. 

We  lurched  as  we  walked,  owing  to  the  stiff- 
ness that  resulted  from  our  having  sat  in  the 
tiny  cockpit  for  seventeen  hours.  Alcock,  who 
during  the  whole  period  had  kept  his  feet  on 
the  rudder  bar  and  one  hand  on  the  control 
lever,  would  not  confess  to  anything  worse  than 
a  desire  to  stand  up  for  the  rest  of  his  life — or 
at  least  until  he  could  sit  down  painlessly.  My 
hands  were  very  unsteady.  My  mind  was  quite 
clear  on  matters  pertaining  to  the  flight,  but 
hazy  on  extraneous  subjects.  After  having 
listened  so  long  to  the  loud-voiced  hum  of  the 
Rolls-Royce  motors,  made  louder  than  ever 
by  the  broken  exhaust  pipe  on  the  starboard 
side,  we  were  both  very  deaf,  and  our  ears 
would  not  stop  ringing. 

Later  in  the  day  we  motored  to  Galway  with 


82  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

a  representative  of  the  London  Daily  Mail.  It 
was  a  strange  but  very  welcome  change  to  see 
solid  objects  flashing  past  us,  instead  of  miles 
upon  monotonous  miles  of  drifting,  cloudy 
vapor. 

Several  times  during  that  drive  I  lost  the 
thread  of  connection  with  tangible  surround- 
ings, and  lived  again  in  near  retrospect  the 
fantastic  happenings  of  the  day,  night  and 
morning  that  had  just  passed.  Subconsciously 
I  still  missed  the  rhythmic,  relentless  drone  of 
the  Rolls-Royce  aero-engines.  My  eyes  had  not 
yet  become  accustomed  to  the  absence  of  clouds 
around  and  below,  and  my  mind  felt  somehow 
lost,  now  that  it  was  no  longer  preoccupied  with 
heavenly  bodies,  horizon,  time,  direction,  charts, 
drift,  tables  of  calculations,  sextant,  spirit  level, 
compass,  aneroid,  altimeter,  wireless  receiver 
and  the  unexpected. 

For  a  while,  in  fact,  the  immediate  past 
seemed  more  prominent  than  the  immediate 
present.  Lassitude  of  mind,  coupled  with  re- 
action from  the  long  strain  of  tense  and  un- 
broken concentration  on  one  supreme  objective, 
made  me  lose  my  grip  of  normal  continuity,  so 
that  I  answered  questions  mechanically  and 
wanted  to  avoid  the  effort  of  talk.  The  out- 


THE  AERIVAL  83 

standing  events  and  impressions  of  the  flight — 
for  example  the  long  spin  from  four  thousand 
to  fifty  feet,  and  the  sudden  sight  of  the  white- 
capped  ocean  at  the  end  of  it — passed  and  re- 
passed  across  my  consciousness.  I  do  not 
know  whether  Alcock  underwent  the  same  men- 
tal processes,  but  he  remained  very  silent. 
Above  all  I  felt  the  need  of  reestablishing  nor- 
mal balance  by  means  of  sleep. 

The  wayside  gatherings  seemed  especially  un- 
real— almost  as  if  they  had  been  scenes  on  the 
film.  By  some  extraordinary  method  of  news 
transmission  the  report  of  our  arrival  had 
spread  all  over  the  district,  and  in  many  dis- 
tricts between  Clifden  and  Galway  curious 
crowds  had  gathered.  Near  Galway  we  were 
stopped  by  another  automobile,  in  which  was 
Major  Mays  of  the  Eoyal  Aero  Club,  whose 
duty  it  was  to  examine  the  seals  on  the  Vickers- 
Vimy,  thus  making  sure  that  we  had  not  landed 
in  Ireland  in  a  machine  other  than  that  in 
which  we  left  Newfoundland.  A  reception  had 
been  prepared  at  Galway ;  but  our  hosts,  realiz- 
ing how  tired  we  must  be,  considerately  made  it 
a  short  and  informal  affair.  Afterwards  we 
slept — for  the  first  time  in  over  forty  hours. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AFTEKMATH  OF  ARRIVAL 

ALCOCK  and  I  awoke  to  find  ourselves  in 
a  wonderland  of  seeming  unreality — the 
product  of  violent  change  from  utter  isolation 
during  the  long  flight  to  unexpected  contact  with 
crowds  of  people  interested  in  us. 

To  begin  with,  getting  up  in  the  morning, 
after  a  satisfactory  sleep  of  nine  hours,  was 
strange.  In  our  eastward  flight  of  two  thou- 
sand miles  we  had  overtaken  time,  in  less  than 
the  period  between  one  sunset  and  another,  to 
the  extent  of  three  and  a  half  hours.  Our  phys- 
ical systems  having  accustomed  themselves  to 
habits  regulated  by  the  clocks  of  Newfoundland, 
we  were  reluctant  to  rise  at  7  A.  M. ;  for  sub- 
consciousness  suggested  that  it  was  but  3:30 
A.  M. 

This  difficulty  of  adjustment  to  the  sudden 
change  in  time  lasted  for  several  days.  Prob- 
ably it  will  be  experienced  by  all  passengers 
traveling  on  the  rapid  trans-ocean  air  services 

84 


©  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  Y. 

THE     VICKERS-VIMY     TRANSATLANTIC      MACHINE      IN     THE      AIR 


THE    LAST    SQUARE    MEAL    IN     AMERICA     WAS    EATEN     NEAR    THE     WINGi 
OF    THE    MACHINE 


AFTERMATH  OF  ARRIVAL         85 

of  the  future — those  who  complete  a  westward 
journey  becoming  early  risers  without  effort, 
those  who  land  after  an  eastward  flight  becom- 
ing unconsciously  lazy  in  the  mornings,  until 
the  jolting  effect  of  the  dislocation  wears  off, 
and  habit  has  accustomed  itself  to  the  new  con- 
ditions. 

Then,  after  breakfast — eaten  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  the  deepest  content — there  began  a 
succession  of  congratulatory  ovations.  For 
these  we  were  totally  unprepared;  and  with  our 
relaxed  minds,  we  could  not  easily  adapt  our- 
selves to  the  conditions  attendant  upon  being 
magnets  of  the  world's  attentive  curiosity. 

First  came  a  reception  from  the  town  of 
Galway,  involving  many  addresses  and  the  pres- 
entation of  a  memento  in  the  form  of  a  Clad- 
dagh  ring,  which  had  historical  connections  with 
a  landing  on  the  coast  of  Ireland  thereabouts 
by  vessels  of  the  Spanish  Armada. 

The  warm-hearted  crowd  that  we  found  wait- 
ing at  Galway  Station  both  amazed  and  daunted 
us.  We  were  grateful  for  their  loud  apprecia- 
tion, but  scarcely  able  to  respond  to  it  ade- 
quately. Flowers  were  offered,  and  we  met  the 
vanguard  of  the  autograph  hunters.  We  must 
have  signed  our  names  hundreds  of  times  dur- 


86  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

ing  the  journey  to  Dublin — on  books,  cards,  old 
envelopes  and  scraps  of  paper  of  every  shape 
and  every  state  of  cleanliness.  This  we  did 
wonderingly,  not  yet  understanding  why  so 
many  people  should  ask  for  our  signatures, 
when  three  days  earlier  few  people  had  heard 
of  our  names. 

The  men,  women  and  children  that  thronged 
every  station  on  the  way  to  Dublin  seemed  to 
place  a  far  higher  value  on  our  success  than  we 
did  ourselves.  Until  now,  perhaps,  we  had 
been  too  self -centered  to  realize  that  other  peo- 
ple might  be  particularly  interested  in  a  flight 
from  America  to  England.  We  had  finished  the 
job  we  wanted  to  do,  and  could  not  comprehend 
why  it  should  lead  to  fuss. 

Now,  however,  I  know  that  the  crowds  saw 
more  clearly  than  I  did,  and  that  their  cheers 
were  not  for  us  personally,  but  for  what  they 
regarded  as  a  manifestation  of  the  spirit  of  ad- 
venture, the  True  Eomance — call  it  what  you 
will.  For  the  moment  this  elusive  ideal  was 
suggested  to  them  by  the  first  non-stop  journey 
by  air  across  the  Atlantic,  which  we  had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  make. 

At  one  station,  where  a  military  band  played 
our  train  in  and  out  again,  a  wooden  model  of 


AFTERMATH  OF  ARRIVAL          87 

an  aeroplane  was  presented  to  Alcock  by  a 
schoolboy.  At  Dublin,  reached  on  the  morning 
of  Trinity  Sunday,  Alcock  and  I  passed  with 
difficulty  through  the  welcoming  crowds,  and 
drove  towards  the  Automobile  Club  in  separate 
cars.  In  due  course,  I  reached  sanctuary;  but 
where  was  Alcock?  We  waited  and  waited,  and 
finally  sent  out  scouts  to  search  for  him.  They 
came  back  with  the  news  that  he  had  been  kid- 
napped, and  taken  to  Commons  in  Trinity  Col- 
lege. 

Landing  at  Holyhead  next  morning,  we  were 
welcomed  back  to  the  shores  of  England  by  Mr. 
R.  K.  Pierson,  designer  of  our  Vickers-Vimy 
machine,  by  Captain  Vickers,  of  the  famous  firm 
that  built  it,  and  by  Mr.  C.  Johnson,  of  the 
Rolls-Royce  Company  that  supplied  our  mo- 
tors. Scenes  all  along  the  line  to  London  were 
a  magnified  repetition  of  those  from  Galway  to 
Dublin.  Chester,  Crewe,  Rugby  and  other  towns 
each  sent  its  Mayor  or  another  representative 
to  the  station.  Aeroplanes  escorted  the  train 
all  the  way  to  London.  Again  we  could  only 
play  our  part  in  a  more  or  less  dazed  state  of 
grateful  wonder. 

Of  the  warm-hearted  welcome  of  the  peo- 
ple of  London,  I  have  confused  recollections 


88  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

that  include  more  receptions,  more  and  larger 
crowds,  more  stormy  greetings,  and  an  excit- 
ing, pleasant  drive  to  the  Royal  Aero  Club.  Al- 
cock  delivered  to  the  postal  authorities  the 
mail-bag  from  St.  John's,  with  regrets  that  it 
had  not  been  possible  to  fly  direct  to  London 
with  the  letters.  In  the  evening  we  separated, 
Alcock  to  see  a  big  prize  fight,  I  to  visit  my 
fiancee. 

Perhaps  the  welcome  that  we  appreciated 
most  was  that  given  us  next  day  when,  at  the 
Weybridge  works  of  the  Vickers  Company,  we 
were  cheered  and  cheered  by  the  men  and  girls 
who  had  built  our  transatlantic  craft.  We  were 
glad  indeed  to  be  able  to  tell  them  and  the  de- 
signer of  the  machine  that  their  handiwork  had 
stood  a  difficult  test  magnificently,  as  had  the 
Rolls-Royce  engines.  One  of  my  most  sincere 
reasons  for  satisfaction  was  that  the  late  Mr. 
Albert  Vickers,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  great 
firm,  regarded  the  flights  as  having  maintained 
the  Vickers  tradition  of  efficiency,  originality 
and  good  workmanship. 

That  Lieutenant-Commander  Read,  U.S.N., 
who  commanded  the  American  flying  boat 
N.  C.  4  in  its  flight  from  America  to  England, 
had  left  London  before  our  arrival  was  a  cause 


AFTERMATH  OF  ARRIVAL          89 

of  real  regret.  Both  Alcock  and  I  were  anx- 
ious to  meet  him  and  his  crew,  so  that  we  might 
compare  our  respective  experiences  of  aerial 
navigation  and  of  weather  conditions  over  the 
Atlantic.  The  United  States  aviators  who  flew 
to  Europe,  and  those  that  were  so  unlucky  in 
coming  to  grief  at  the  Azores,  showed  them- 
selves to  be  real  sportsmen;  and  without  any 
exception,  there  was  the  best  possible  feeling  be- 
tween them  and  all  the  British  aviators  who 
made,  or  attempted  to  make,  a  non-stop  jour- 
ney from  Newfoundland  to  Ireland. 

Although  I  am  supremely  glad  to  have  had 
the  opportunity  of  flying  the  Atlantic  by  aero- 
plane, afterthoughts  on  the  risks  and  chances 
taken  have  convinced  me  that,  while  our  own 
effort  may  have  been  useful  as  a  pioneer  dem- 
onstration, single  or  twin  engine  aircraft  are 
altogether  unsuitable  for  trans-ocean  voyages. 
We  were  successful — yes.  But  a  temporary 
failure  of  either  of  our  motors  (although  this 
is  unlikely  when  dealing  with  Rolls-Royce  or 
other  first-class  aero  motors)  would  have  meant 
certain  disaster  and  likely  death. 

Another  vital  drawback  of  the  smaller  ma- 
chines is  that  so  much  space,  and  so  much  dis- 
posable lift,  is  needed  for  fuel  that  the  num- 


90  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

ber  of  persons  on  board  must  be  limited  to  two, 
or  in  some  cases  three,  and  no  freight  can  be 
taken.  Yet  another  is  that  should  the  naviga- 
tor of  an  aeroplane  make  an  important  error  in 
calculation  while  flying  over  the  ocean  in  fog  or 
mist,  an  enforced  descent  into  the  water,  after 
the  limited  quantity  of  fuel  has  been  expended 
over  a  wrong  course,  is  more  than  possible. 

In  the  present  condition  of  practical  aero- 
nautics, the  only  heavier-than-air  craft  likely  to 
be  suitable  for  flying  the  Atlantic  are  the  large 
flying  boats  now  being  built  by  various  aircraft 
companies ;  and  even  they  are  limited  as  to  size 
by  certain  definite  formulae.  The  development 
in  the  near  future  of  long  flights  over  the  ocean 
would  seem,  therefore,  to  be  confined  to  lighter- 
than-air  craft. 

In  this  connection  the  two  voyages  across  the 
Atlantic  of  the  British  government  airship  R-34, 
not  long  after  Alcock  and  I  had  returned  to 
London,  was  a  big  step  towards  the  age  of  reg- 
ular air  service  between  Britain  and  America. 
With  five  motors  the  R-34  could  carry  on  if  one, 
or  even  two  of  them  were  out  of  action.  In 
fact,  on  its  return  flight,  one  motor  broke  down 
beyond  the  possibility  of  immediate  repair;  al- 
though there  were  ample  facilities  and  an  ample 


AFTEEMATH  OF  ARRIVAL         91 

crew  for  effecting  immediate  repairs  in  the  air. 
Yet  she  completed  her  journey  without  diffi- 
culty. With  a  disposable  lift  of  twenty-nine 
tons,  the  airship  carried  plenty  of  fuel  for  all 
contingencies,  an  adequate  crew,  and  heavy 
wireless  apparatus  that  could  not  have  been 
fitted  on  the  larger  aeroplanes. 

Despite  all  this  preliminary  weight,  a  large 
collection  of  parcels,  letters  and  newspapers 
were  taken  from  America  to  England  in  rec- 
ord time.  Had  the  weather  conditions  been  at 
all  suitable  she  could  easily  have  brought  the 
mail  direct  from  New  York  to  London  by  air. 
All  honor  to  General  Maitland,  Major  Scott  and 
the  other  men  who  carried  out  this  astonishing 
demonstration  so  early  as  July,  1919. 

Even  vessels  of  the  R-34  type,  however,  are 
quite  unsuitable  for  regular  traffic  across  the 
Atlantic.  Much  bigger  craft  will  be  needed  if 
the  available  space  and  the  disposable  lift  are 
to  be  sufficient  for  the  carrying  of  freight  or 
passengers;  on  a  commercial  basis.  Already 
the  construction  of  airships  two  and  a  half  and 
five  times  the  size  of  the  R-34,  with  approxi- 
mate disposable  lifts  of  one  hundred  and  two 
hundred  tons  respectively,  is  projected.  When 


92  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

such  craft  are  accomplished  facts,  and  when 
further  progress  has  been  made  in  solving 
weather  and  navigation  problems,  we  may  look 
for  transatlantic  flights  on  a  commercial  basis. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  NAVIGATION  OP  AIBCBAPT 

1DO  not  claim  to  be  an  especial  authority  on 
the  theory  of  navigation — indeed,  it  was  as 
a  prisoner  of  war  that  I  first  took  up  seriously 
the  study  of  that  science.  But  I  believe  that 
sustained  and  sufficient  concentration  can  give 
a  man  what  he  wants ;  and  on  this  assumption 
I  decided  to  learn  whatever  might  be  learned 
about  navigation  as  applied  to  aircraft.  As  yet, 
like  most  aspects  of  aeronautics,  this  is  rather 
indefinite,  although  research  and  specially 
adapted  instruments  will  probably  make  it  as 
exact  as  marine  navigation. 

Navigation  is  the  means  whereby  the  mari- 
ner or  aviator  ascertains  his  position  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  and  determines  the  exact 
direction  in  which  he  must  head  his  craft  in 
order  to  reach  its  destination. 

The  methods  of  navigation  employed  by  mari- 
ners are  the  result  of  centuries  of  research  and 
invention,  but  have  not  yet  reached  finality — 


94  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

witness  the  introduction  within  the  last  few 
years  of  the  Gyroscopic  Compass  and  the  Di- 
rectional Wireless  Telegraph  Apparatus,  as 
well  as  of  improved  methods  of  calculation. 

In  short  journeys  over  land  by  aeroplane  or 
airship  the  duties  of  a  navigator  are  light,  so 
long  as  he  can  see  the  ground  and  check  his 
progress  towards  the  objective  by  observation 
and  a  suitable  map. 

But  for  long  distance  flights,  especially  over 
the  ocean  and  under  circumstances  whereby  the 
ground  cannot  be  seen,  the  navigator  of  the  air 
borrows  much  from  the  navigator  of  the  sea. 
He  makes  modifications  and  additions,  necessi- 
tated by  the  different  conditions  of  keeping  to 
a  set  course  through  the  atmosphere  and  of 
keeping  to  a  set  course  through  the  ocean  •  but 
the  principles  underlying  the  two  forms  of 
navigation  are  identical. 

It  is  impossible  to  explain  aerial  navigation 
without  seeming  to  paraphrase  other  writers  on 
the  subject.  One  of  the  simplest  explanations 
of  the  science  is  that  of  Lieutenant  Commander 
K.  Mackenzie  Grieve  in  "Our  Atlantic  At- 
tempt," which  he  wrote  in  collaboration  with 
Mr.  Harry  Hawker,  his  pilot,  after  their  glori- 


NAVIGATION  OF  AIRCRAFT        95 

ous  attempt  to  win  the  London  Daily  Mail's 
transatlantic  competition. 

The  chief  differences  between  the  navigation 
of  aircraft  and  the  navigation  of *seacraft  are 
occasioned  by: 

(a)  The  vastly  greater  speed  of  aircraft,  ne- 
cessitating  more    frequent    observations    and 
quicker  methods  of  calculation. 

(b)  The  serious  drift  caused  by  the  wind. 
This  may  take  aircraft  anything  up  to  forty  or 
more  miles  off  the  course  in  each  hour's  flying, 
according  to  the  direction  and  strength  of  the 
wind.    In  cloudy  weather,  or  at  night,  a  change 
in  the  wind  can  alter  the   drift  without  the 
knowledge   of  the  navigator.    Hence,   special 
precautions  must  be  taken  to  observe  the  drift 
at  all  possible  times. 

(c)  The  absence  of  need  for  extreme  accu- 
racy of  navigation  in  the  air,  since  a  ten  or 
even  twenty  mile  error  from  the  destination  in 
a  long  journey  is  permissible.    Another  favor- 
able point  is  that  rocks,  reefs  and  shoals  need 
not  be  avoided.    This  permits  the  aerial  navi- 
gator to  use  short  cuts  and  approximations  in 
calculation,  which  would  be  criminal  in  marine 
navigation. 

There  are  three  methods  of  aerial  navigation 


96  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

— "Dead  Beckoning,''  Astronomical  Observa- 
tion, and  Directional  Wireless  Telegraphy. 
None  should  be  nsed  alone ;  for  although  accu- 
racy may  be  obtained  with  any  single  method, 
it  is  highly  advisable  to  check  each  by  means 
of  the  others. 

As  in  the  case  of  marine  navigation,  a  reli- 
able compass,  either  of  the  magnetic  or  gyro- 
scopic type,  is  essential  for  aerial  navigation, 
as  well  as  an  accurate  and  reliable  chronometer. 
Suitable  charts  must  be  provided,  showing  all 
parts  of  the  route  to  be  covered.  When  the 
magnetic  compass  is  used,  such  charts  should 
show  the  variation  between  True  and  Magnetic 
North  at  different  points  on  the  route. 

NAVIGATION   BY   "DEAD   BECKONING" 

"Dead  Beckoning "  is  the  simplest  method  of 
navigation;  and,  under  favorable  conditions,  it 
gives  a  high  degree  of  accuracy.  A  minimum 
of  observation  is  required,  but  careful  calcula- 
tion is  essential. 

The  "Dead  Keckoning"  position  of  an  aero- 
plane or  airship  at  any  time  is  calculated  from 
its  known  speed  and  direction  over  the  surface 
of  the  earth  or  ocean,  and  its  known  course  as 


NAVIGATION  OF  AIRCRAFT        97 

indicated  by  the  magnetic  or  gyroscopic  com- 
pass. 

To  determine  the  direction  of  movement  of 
an  aeroplane  or  airship,  as  apart  from  the  di- 
rection in  which  it  is  headed,  an  instrument 
known  as  a  Drift  Indicator,  or  Drift  Bearing 
Plate,  is  used. 

One  form  of  Drift  Indicator  consists  of  a 
simple  dial,  with  the  center  cut  away  and  a  wire 
stretched  diametrically  across  it.  The  outer 
edge  of  the  dial  is  divided  into  degrees,  in  a 
similar  manner  to  that  of  the  compass.  It  is 
mounted  in  such  a  way  that  an  observer  can, 
by  looking  through  the  center  of  the  disc,  see 
the  ground  or  ocean  below  him.  The  disc  is 
then  turned  until  objects  on  the  ground — or 
white-caps,  icebergs,  ships,  or  other  objects  vis- 
ible on  the  surface  of  the  ocean — are  seen  to 
move  parallel  with  the  wire,  without  in  any  way 
deviating  from  it.  The  angle  which  the  wire 
then  makes  with  the  direction  in  which  the  nose 
of  the  aeroplane  or  airship  is  pointing  gives 
the  angle  of  drift. 

The  ground  speed  (or  speed  over  the  surface 
of  the  earth)  of  aircraft  can  be  measured  by  ob- 
serving the  time  taken  in  passing  over  any  fixed 
or  very  slowly  moving  object,  while  a  certain 


98  FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

angular  distance  is  described — this  being  found 
by  suitable  sights,  attached  to  the  Drift  Bear- 
ing Plate.  From  the  result,  considered  in  con- 
junction with  the  height  of  the  aeroplane  or 
airship,  the  actual  speed  over  the  surface  is 
calculated.  This  speed  will  be  in  the  direction 
shown  by  the  wire  of  the  Drift  Bearing  Plate. 

The  ground  speed  so  found  will  differ  nearly 
always  from  the  air  speed,  as  shown  by  the  air 
speed  meter,  because  of  the  effect  of  the  wind. 
The  difference  is  greater  or  less  according  to 
the  wind's  relation  to  the  direction  in  which  the 
aeroplane  or  airship  is  headed. 

Having  found  by  observation  the  drift,  the 
ground  speed  and  the  air  speed,  a  simple  in- 
strument such  as  the  Appleyard  Course  and 
Distance  Calculator  then  permits  the  aerial 
navigator  to  discover  without  difficulty,  as  on 
a  slide  rule,  the  strength  and  direction  of  the 
wind.  Should  the  actual  track  of  aircraft  over 
the  earth's  surface  not  coincide  with  the  de- 
sired course,  the  Course  and  Distance  Calcula- 
tor, or  a  similar  instrument,  can  thus  be  used 
to  calculate,  in  connection  with  the  wind  veloc- 
ity and  direction  already  found,  the  direction 
in  which  the  nose  of  the  craft  must  be  pointed 
in  order  to  correct  the  deviation  due  to  drift. 


NAVIGATION  OF  AIRCRAFT        99 

Knowing  the  latitude  and  longitude  of  the 
point  of  departure,  and  noting  carefully  the  time 
that  elapses  between  each  separate  observation 
of  the  ground  speed  and  of  the  course,  the  air 
navigator,  with  the  aid  of  a  specially  prepared 
set  of  " traverse  tables "  (as  used  by  mariners), 
can  easily  plot  on  his  chart  the  distance  cov- 
ered and  the  direction  in  which  it  has  been 
covered.  Hence  the  position  of  the  aircraft  at 
any  time  is  either  known  definitely,  or  can  be 
forecast  with  a  fair  degree  of  accuracy. 

For  aerial  navigation  by  means  of  "Dead 
Reckoning,"  frequent  observations  of  ground 
speed  and  drift  are  necessary.  If  aircraft  are 
cut  off  by  clouds  or  fog  from  all  possibility  of 
sighting  the  surface  of  the  earth,  grave  errors 
may  occur,  since  in  long  distance  flights  the 
wind 's  velocity  and  direction  often  change  with- 
out the  pilot's  knowledge. 


NAVIGATION  BY  ASTRONOMICAL,  OBSERVATION 

In  navigation  by  astronomical  observation, 
the  position  of  the  aeroplane  or  airship  is  found 
by  observing  the  height  above  the  horizon  of 
either  the  sun  or  another  heavenly  body,  such 
as  a  star  that  is  easy  of  recognition.  The 


100          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

method  depends  upon  the  known  fact  that  at 
any  given  instant  the  sun  is  vertically  above 
some  definite  point  on  the  earth's  surface.  This 
point  can  be  calculated  from  the  time  of  the  ob- 
servation and  the  declination  and  equation  of 
time,  as  tabulated  in  the  nautical  almanac. 

In  the  case  of  stars,  the  right  ascension  of 
the  sun  and  of  the  star  also  enter  into  the  cal- 
culation. The  method  of  carrying  out  such  cal- 
culations is  too  involved  for  the  scope  of  this 
volume,  and  the  reader  is  referred  to  many  of 
the  excellent  text  books  published  on  the  sub- 
ject of  navigation. 

Since  the  navigator  knows,  from  the  time  of 
his  observation,  the  point  on  the  earth's  surface 
over  which  is  the  heavenly  body  in  question,  it 
is  clear  that  around  this  point  circles  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth  may  be  described.  From 
any  point  in  any  one  circle  the  heavenly  body 
will  appear  to  have  the  same  altitude  or  eleva- 
tion above  the  horizon.  A  single  observation 
of  the  altitude  of  any  one  heavenly  body  shows, 
therefore,  only  that  the  observer  may  be  at  any 
point  on  such  a  circle  of  equal  altitude — other- 
wise known  'as  a  Sumner  circle.  But  it  does  not 
fix  that  point. 

A  second  simultaneous  observation,  of  a  dif- 


NAVIGATION  OF 

ferent  heavenly  body,  will  give  a  different  cir- 
cle, corresponding  to  the  position  of  the  second 
body.  The  intersection  of  these  two  circles  de- 
termines the  point  of  observation. 

This  fact  constitutes  a  reliable  basis  for  fix- 
ing one's  position  during  a  clear  night,  when 
many  stars  are  visible  and  choice  of  suitable 
heavenly  bodies  may  be  made.  During  the  day, 
however,  the  light  of  the  sun  prevents  other 
heavenly  bodies  from  being  seen,  so  that  only 
a  single  observation  is  possible. 

If  the  aeroplane  or  airship  were  not  moving, 
then  two  successive  observations  of  the  sun, 
with  an  interval  of  an  hour  or  more  between 
them,  would  give  the  intersecting  circles  and 
fix  the  position.  But  the  aircraft  being  in  mo- 
tion, it  is  necessary  to  combine  the  method  of 
"Dead  Beckoning"  with  the  use  of  the  Sum- 
ner  circles,  as  found  by  observation  of  the  sun's 
altitude. 

In  order  to  avoid  drawing  the  entire  circle, 
a  small  portion  only  of  it  is  shown  on  the  chart 
— so  small  that  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  straight 
line.  Such  a  small  section  of  the  Sumner  cir- 
cle is  known  as  a  " position  line." 

The  desired  track  is  laid  out  on  the  chart, 
and  the  "Dead  Beckoning"  position  for  the 


.102          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

time  of  the  solar  observation  is  indicated  on 
it.  The  track  should  be  intersected  at  this  point 
by  the  position  line,  the  observation  thus  form- 
ing a  check  upon  the  '  i  Dead  Beckoning. ' ' 

The  altitude  of  the  sun  or  of  a  star  is  meas- 
ured by  the  sextant.  For  such  an  observation 
to  be  exact,  it  is  necessary  that  not  only  should 
the  sun  or  stars  be  viewed  clearly,  but  that  a 
clear  horizon,  formed  either  by  the  ocean  or  by 
suitable  clouds,  should  be  visible. 

Corrections  must  be  applied  to  the  observed 
altitude  for  the  aircraft 's  height  above  the  hori- 
zon, for  refraction,  and  for  the  diameter  of  the 
body  under  observation — the  latter  two  correc- 
tions being  given  in  the  nautical  almanac. 
There  may  be,  also,  an  error  inherent  in  the 
sextant  itself.  For  extremely  refined  naviga- 
tion, corrections  are  applied  in  accordance  with 
the  direction  and  velocity  of  the  aeroplane  or 
airship ;  but  these  are  not  really  necessary,  since 
navigation  of  aircraft  does  not  require  such 
close  calculation. 

When  the  sun  or  star  observed  is  directly 
south  of  the  aerial  navigator  in  the  northern 
hemisphere,  or  north  of  him  in  the  southern 
hemisphere,  the  altitude,  corrected  for  declina- 
tion of  the  body  under  observation,  gives  the 


NAVIGATION  OF  AIECRAFT       103 

aircraft's  latitude.  When  the  navigator  is  di- 
rectly east  or  west,  the  altitude,  corrected  for 
the  time  of  observation,  gives  its  longitude. 

If  the  horizon  is  invisible,  owing  to  fogs  or 
unsuitable  clouds,  it  may  be  replaced  by  means 
of  a  spirit  level ;  but  great  care  should  be  taken 
in  making  such  observations,  since  a  spirit  level 
on  an  aeroplane  or  airship  is  not  wholly  relia- 
ble, unless  the  craft  is  proceeding  in  an  abso- 
lutely straight  direction,  and  without  sway  of 
any  kind. 

All  methods  of  navigation  by  Astronomical 
Observation  fail  when  the  sky  is  obscured  by 
clouds  and  the  heavenly  bodies  cannot  be  seen. 
As  a  general  rule  this  drawback  does  not  ham- 
per air  navigation  to  any  great  extent,  since 
aircraft  should  be  able  to  climb  above  most  of 
the  obscuring  clouds.  Yet  it  may  happen,  as  it 
did  in  the  case  of  our  transatlantic  flight,  that 
the  clouds  are  too  high  for  such  a  maneuver. 

If  it  were  possible  to  measure  accurately  the 
true  bearing  of  the  sun  or  star  at  the  moment 
of  observation,  then  a  single  observation  of  a 
single  heavenly  body  would  fix  the  position  of 
the  craft  at  the  intersection  of  the  line  of  bear- 
ing with  the  position  line.  At  the  time  of  writ- 
ing, however,  there  are  no  satisfactory  means 


104          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

of  making  such  a  measurement  with  the  re- 
quired degree  of  accuracy.  Apparatus  which 
will  enable  this  to  be  done  is  now  in  course  of 
development.  Navigation  by  means  of  astro- 
nomical observation  will  thereby  be  simplified 
greatly. 


NAVIGATION  BY  WIKELESS  DIRECTION  FINDER 

With  the  great  improvements  that  have  been 
made  in  the  year  1919,  the  guiding  of  aircraft 
by  directional  wireless  telegraphy  is  rapidly 
becoming  a  reliable  and  accurate  means  of 
aerial  navigation.  Although  complicated  in  de- 
sign and  construction,  the  complete  receiving 
equipment  for  aircraft  is  now  light,  compact, 
and  simple  of  operation. 

The  receiving  equipment  on  aeroplanes  and 
airships  is  arranged  so  as  to  indicate,  with  a 
comparatively  high  degree  of  accuracy,  the  di- 
rection from  which  wireless  signals  are  re- 
ceived. The  position  of  the  sending,  or  beacon, 
station  being  known,  the  bearing  of  the  aircraft 
from  that  station  may  be  plotted  on  a  suitable 
chart,  in  which  small  segments  of  great  circles 
are  represented  by  straight  lines.  Simultane- 
ous bearings  on  two  known  beacon  stations  are 


HOT    COFFEE    WAS    TAKEN    ABOARD 


SLOW    RISING    NEARLY    CAUSED    DISASTER    AT    THE    START    OF    THE    GREAT 

FLIGHT 


NAVIGATION  OF  AIRCRAFT      105 

sufficient  to  fix  the  observer's  position  with  tol- 
erable accuracy  at  the  intersection  of  the  lines 
of  bearing,  provided  that  they  intersect  at  a 
reasonable  angle — 45  degrees  or  more,  where 
possible. 

With  the  very  close  tuning  rendered  possible 
by  the  use  of  continuous  waves,  beacon  stations 
of  the  future  will  probably  be  provided  with 
automatic  means  whereby  directional  signals 
can  be  sent  out  at  intervals  of  one  hour  or  less. 
Such  signals  will  be  coded,  so  fhat  the  crews  of 
aircraft  can  identify  the  wireless  station.  The 
wave  lengths  must  be  chosen  so  as  not  to  inter- 
fere with  messages  sent  from  commercial  sta- 
tions. 

If  there  be  a  beacon  station  at  the*  air  navi- 
gator's destination,  it  is  possible  for  him  to 
direct  his  course  so  that  the  craft  is  always 
headed  for  the  beacon ;  and  in  due  time  he  will 
reach  his  objective. 

This  simple  but  lazy  method,  however,  is  not 
to  be  recommended;  for,  owing  to  the  action 
of  the  wind,  the  route  covered  is  longer  than 
the  straight  course.  To  counteract  drift  and 
proceed  in  a  direct  line  towards  his  destination, 
the  air  navigator  frequently  has  to  direct  his 
course  so  that  the  craft  is  not  headed  straight 


106 


FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 


for  the  objective.  Hence,  with  a  single  beacon 
station,  frequent  observations  of  drift  are  nec- 
essary, if  the  shortest  route  is  to  be  followed. 
Thus: 


Approximate  path  taken  by  aircraft  headed  always  towards 
beacon  station. 


Path   taken   by   aircraft  headed   so    as   to   counteract   drift. 

When  two  or  more  beacon  stations  are  avail- 
able, and  positions  can  be  ascertained  at  least 
once  an  hour,  observation  on  the  surface  of  the 
ocean  for  drift,  although  desirable,  is  not  ab- 
solutely necessary.  The  drift  may  be  calcu- 
lated with  accuracy  enough  from  the  craft's  po- 
sition as  found  by  the  lines  of  bearing  indicated 
in  messages  from  the  various  beacon  stations. 

Another  method  of  employing  the  Wireless 


NAVIGATION  OF  AIRCRAFT      107 

Direction  Finder  is  for  aircraft  to  send  out  sig- 
nals to  two  or  more  beacon  stations,  which  reply 
by  advising  the  air  navigator  of  his  bearing  in 
relation  to  themselves.  This  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  accurate  method.  Its  disadvantage  lies  in 
the  fact  that  whereas  the  heavier  and  more  ro- 
bust apparatus  needed  for  it  can  easily  be  em- 
ployed in  the  stationary  beacon  stations,  few 
aircraft  will  be  able  to  support  wireless  send- 
ing apparatus  of  sufficient  weight  to  carry  over 
the  long  distances  they  must  cover  in  trans- 
oceanic aerial  travel. 

The  greatest  advantage  of  air  navigation  by 
means  of  wireless  telegraphy  is  that  it  can  be 
employed  in  any  weather.  Fogs  and  clouds  do 
not  make  it  inoperative,  nor  even  less  accurate. 
Another  recommendation  is  that  its  use  does  not 
entail  a  knowledge  of  advanced  mathematics,  as 
required  for  navigation  by  astronomical  ob- 
servation. 

I  believe  firmly  that  the  air  navigator  of  the 
future  will  rely  upon  the  Wireless  Direction 
Finder  as  his  mainstay,  while  using  astronom- 
ical observation  and  the  system  of  "Dead 
Reckoning"  as  checks  upon  the  wireless  bear- 
ings given  him,  and  as  second  and  third  strings 
to  his  bow,  in  case  the  wireless  receiving  ap- 
paratus breaks  down. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  FUTURE  OF  TRANSATLANTIC  AIR  TRAVEL 

\  LTHOUGH  three  pioneer  flights  were 
2\.  made  across  the  Atlantic  during  the  sum- 
mer of  1919,  the  year  passed  without  bringing 
to  light  any  immediate  prospect  of  an  air  serv- 
ice between  Europe  and  America.  Nor  does 
1920  seem  likely  to  produce  such  a  development 
on  a  regular  basis. 

Before  a  transatlantic  airway  is  possible, 
much  remains  to  be  done — organization,  capi- 
talization, government  support,  the  charting  of 
air  currents,  the  establishment  of  directional 
wireless  stations,  research  after  improvements 
in  the  available  material.  All  this  requires  the 
spending  of  money ;  and  for  the  moment  neither 
governments  nor  private  interests  are  enam- 
ored of  investments  with  a  large  element  of 
speculation. 

But,  sooner  or  later,  a  London-New  York 
service  of  aircraft  must  be  established.  Its  ad- 

108 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIR  TRAVEL    109 

vantages  are  too  tremendous  to  be  ignored  for 
long.  Prediction  is  ever  dangerous;  and, 
meantime,  I  am  confining  myself  to  a  discus- 
sion of  what  can  be  done  with  the  means  and 
the  knowledge  already  at  the  disposal  of  ex- 
perts, provided  their  brains  are  allied  to  suffi- 
cient capital. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  first  two  flights 
across  the  Atlantic  were  made  respectively  by 
a  flying-boat  and  an  aeroplane,  it  is  very  evi- 
dent that  the  future  of  transatlantic  flight  be- 
longs to  the  airship.  That  the  apparatus  in 
which  Sir  John  Alcock  and  I  made  the  first  non- 
stop air  journey  over  the  Atlantic  was  an  aero- 
plane only  emphasizes  my  belief  that  for  long 
flights  above  the  ocean  the  dirigible  is  the  only 
useful  vehicle.  If  science  discovers  some  start- 
lingly  new  motive  power — for  example,  inter- 
molecular  energy — that  will  revolutionize  me- 
chanical propulsion,  heavier-than-air  craft  may 
be  as  valuable  for  long  flights  as  for  air  traffic 
over  shorter  distances.  Until  then  trans-ocean 
flying  on  a  commercial  basis  must  be  monopo- 
lized by  lighter-than-air  craft. 

The  aeroplane — and  in  this  general  term  I  in- 
clude the  flying  boat  and  the  seaplane — is  im- 
practicable as  a  means  of  transport  for  dis- 


110          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

tances  over  one  thousand  miles,  because  it  has 
definite  and  scientific  limitations  of  size,  and 
consequently  of  lift.  The  ratio  of  weight  to 
power  would  prevent  a  forty-ton  aeroplane — • 
which  is  approximately  the  largest  heavier- 
than-air  craft  that  at  present  might  be  con- 
structed and  effectively  handled — from  remain- 
ing aloft  in  still  air  for  longer  than  twenty-five 
hours,  carrying  a  load  of  passengers  and  mails 
of  about  five  tons  at  an  air  speed  of,  say,  eighty- 
five  miles  an  hour.  Its  maximum  air  distance, 
without  landing  to  replenish  the  fuel  supply, 
would  thus  be  two  thousand,  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles.  For  a  flight  of  twenty-five 
hundred  miles  all  the  disposable  lift  (gross  lift 
minus  weight  of  structure)  would  be  needed  for 
crew  and  fuel,  and  neither  passengers  nor 
freight  could  be  taken  aboard. 

There  is  not  in  existence  an  aeroplane  capable 
of  flying,  without  alighting  on  the  way,  the 
three  thousand  miles  between  London  and  New 
York,  even  when  loaded  only  with  the  neces- 
sary crew.  With  the  very  smallest  margin  of 
safety  no  transatlantic  route  of  over  two  thou- 
sand miles  is  admissible  for  aeroplanes.  This 
limitation  would  necessitate  time-losing  and 
wearisome  journeys  between  London  and  Ire- 


TEANSATLANTIC  AIE  TRAVEL    111 

land,  Newfoundland  and  New  York,  to  and 
from  the  nearest  points  on  either  side  of  the 
ocean.  Even  under  these  conditions  only  im- 
portant mail  or  valuable  articles  of  little  weight 
might  be  carried  profitably. 

As  against  these  drawbacks,  the  larger  types 
of  airships  have  a  radius  far  wider  than  the 
Atlantic.  Their  only  limit  of  size  is  concerned 
with  landing  grounds  and  sheds;  for  the  per- 
centage of  useful  lift  increases  with  the  bulk 
of  the  vessel,  while  the  weight  to  power  ratio 
decreases.  A  voyage  by  dirigible  can  there- 
fore be  made  directly  from  London  to  New 
York,  and  far  beyond  it,  without  a  halt. 

Another  advantage  of  lighter-than-air  craft 
is  that  whereas  the  restricted  space  on  board  an 
aeroplane  leaves  little  for  comfort  and  conven- 
ience, a  large  rigid  airship  can  easily  provide 
fipst-rate  living,  sleeping  and  dining  quarters, 
besides  room  for  the  passengers  to  take  exercise 
by  walking  along  the  length  of  the  inside  keel, 
or  on  the  shelter  deck.  In  a  saloon  at  the  top 
of  the  vessel  no  noise  from  the  engines  would 
be  heard,  as  must  be  the  case  in  whatever  quar- 
ters could  be  provided  on  a  passenger  aero- 
plane. 


112          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Yet  another  point  in  favor  of  the  airship  as 
a  medium  for  trans-ocean  flight  is  its  greater 
safety.  An  aeroplane  is  entirely  dependent 
for  sustentation  in  the  air  on  the  proper  work- 
ing of  all  its  motors.  Should  two  motors — in 
some  cases  even  one — break  down,  the  result 
would  be  a  forced  descent  into  the  water,  with 
the  possibility  of  total  loss  on  a  rough  sea,  even 
though  the  craft  be  a  solid  flying  boat.  In  the 
case  of  an  airship  the  only  result  of  the  failure 
of  any  of  the  motors  is  reduction  of  speed. 
Moreover,  a  speed  of  four-fifths  of  the  maxi- 
mum can  still  be  maintained  with  half  the  mo- 
tors of  an  airship  out  of  action,  so  that  there  is 
no  possibility  of  a  forced  descent  owing  to  en- 
gine breakdown.  The  sole  result  of  such  a  mis- 
hap would  be  to  delay  the  vessel's  arrival. 
Further,  it  may  be  noted  that  an  airship 's  ma- 
chinery can  be  so  arranged  as  to  be  readily  ac- 
cessible for  repairs  and  replacement  while  on 
a  voyage. 

As  regards  comparative  speed  the  heavy  type 
of  aeroplane  necessary  to  carry  an  economical 
load  for  long  distances  would  not  be  capable  of 
much  more  than  eighty-five  to  ninety  miles  an 
hour.  The  difference  between  this  and  the 


TEANSATLANTIC  AIR  TEAVEL    113 

present  airship  speed  of  sixty  miles  an  hour 
would  be  reduced  by  the  fact  that  an  aeroplane 
must  land  at  intermediate  stations  for  fuel  re- 
plenishment. Any  slight  advantage  in  speed 
that  such  heavier-than-air  craft  possess  will  dis- 
appear with  the  future  production  of  larger 
types  of  dirigible,  capable  of  cruising  speeds 
varying  from  seventy-five  to  ninety  miles  an 
hour.  For  the  airship  service  London-New 
York  direct,  the  approximate  time  under  nor- 
mal conditions  should  be  fifty  hours.  For  the 
aeroplane  service  London-Ireland-Newfound- 
land-New  York  the  time  would  be  at  least  forty- 
six  hours. 

Perhaps  the  most  convincing  argument  in 
favor  of  airships  as  against  aeroplanes  for 
trans-ocean  aviation  is  that  of  comparative  cost. 
All  air  estimates  under  present  conditions  must 
be  very  approximate;  but  I  put  faith  in  the 
carefully  prepared  calculations  of  experts  of 
my  acquaintance.  These  go  to  show  that,  with 
the  equipment  likely  to  be  available  during  the 
next  few  years,  a  regular  and  effective  air  ser- 
vice between  London  and  New  York  will  need 
(again  emphasizing  the  factor  of  approxima- 
tion) the  following  capital  and  rates: 


114         FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Aeroplane 
Airship    Service  *        Service  * 

Capital  required  .........  $13,000,000    $19,300,000 

Passenger  rate: 

London-New  York  _____  $240  $575 

Rate  per  passenger: 

Mile   ................        8  cents          18  cents 

Mails  per  ounce  : 

London-New  York  .....     6^4  cents      15%  cents 


These  figures  for  an  airship  service  are  based 
on  detailed  calculations,  of  which  the  more  im- 
portant are  : 

Capital  Charges: 
Four  airships  of  3,500,000  cu.  ft.  ca- 

pacity, at  $2,000,000  each  ..........  $8,000,000 

Two  double  airship  sheds  at  $1,500,000 

each  ...............  .............     3,000,000 

Land  for  two  sheds  and  aerodromes  at 

$150,000  each   ...................        300,000 

Workshops,  gas  plants,  and  equipment.        750,000 
Working  capital,  including  spare  parts, 

stores,  etc  .......................        850,000 

Wireless  equipment  .................          50,000 

Miscellaneous   accessories   ............          50,000 


Total  capital  required $13,000,000 


Annual  charge,  interest  at  10% $1,300,000 

*For   airships   with   gross  gas  capacity  of   3,500,000   cubic 
feet  and  total  load  of  105  tons. 
Tor  machines  with  total  load  of  40  tons. 


TEANSATLANTIC  AIE  TEAVEL    115 

Depreciation  and  Insurance: 
Airships. 

Useful  life,  about  3  years. 
Obsolete  value,  about  $100,000  per  ship. 
Total  depreciation  per  ship,  $1,900,000  in  three 

years. 
Average  total  depreciation  per  annum  for  four 

ships  for  3  years,  $2,535,000. 
Airship  sheds. 

Total  annual  charge $90,000 

Workshops  and  plant. 

Depreciation  at  5%  per  annum 17,500 

Total  annual  charge  for  depreciation 2,650,000 

Total  annual  insurance  charges  on  air- 
ships and  plant 617,500 

Annual  Establishment  Expenses: 
Salaries  of  Officers  and  Crews — 

4  airship  commanders   $20,000 

8  airship  officers    30,000 

Total  number  crew  hands  (64)  80,000    $130,000 

$130,000 
Salaries  of  Establishment — 

Management  and  Staff $25,000 

Workshop  hands,  storekeepers, 
etc.  (50  at  each  shed — total 
100)  100,000  $125,000 


Total  annual  establishment  expenses. . . .     $255,000 
Repairs  and  Maintenance: 
Sheds  and  plant,  annual  charge,  say ,      $25,000 


116          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Repairs  and  overhaul  of  airships 100,000 

Total  charge $125,000 


Total  annual  charges  on  above  basis $4,947,500 

Say $5,000,000 

Cost  Chargeable  per  Crossing: 

Taking  the  total  number  of  crossings  per 

year  as  200  (London-New York) — 
Proportion  of  annual  charges  per  cross- 
ing    $25,000 

Petrol  per  trip,  30  tons  at  $125  per  ton.       3,750 

Oil  per  trip,  2  tons  at  $200  per  ton 400 

Hydrogen  used,  750,000  cu.  ft.  at  $2.50 

per  1,000  cu.  ft 1,875 

Cost  of  food  per  trip  for  crew  of  19  and 

100  passengers  2,000 


Total  charge  per  crossing  (London-New 

York)   $33,025 

The  weight  available  for  passengers  and 
mails  on  each  airship  of  the  type  projected 
would  be  fifteen  tons.  This  permits  the  carry- 
ing of  one  hundred  and  forty  passengers  and 
effects,  or  ten  tons  of  mails  and  fifty  passen- 
gers. To  cover  the  working  costs  and  interest, 
passengers  would  have  to  be  charged  $240  per 
head  and  mails  $2,025  per  ton  for  the  voyage 
London-New  York. 

This  charge  for  passengers  is  already  less 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIE  TRAVEL    117 

than  that  for  the  more  expensive  berths  on 
transatlantic  liners.  Without  a  doubt,  with  the 
coming  of  cheaper  fuel,  lower  insurance  rates 
and  larger  airships,  it  will  be  reduced  eventu- 
ally to  the  cheapest  rate  for  first-class  passages 
on  sea  liners. 

With  a  fleet  of  four  airships,  a  service  of 
two  trips  each  way  per  week  is  easily  possible. 
For  aeroplanes  with  a  total  load  of  forty  tons 
the  weight  available  for  passengers  and  mails 
is  2.1  tons.  If  such  a  craft  were  to  carry  the 
same  weekly  load  as  the  service  of  airships — 
thirty  tons  each  way — it  would  be  necessary  to 
have  fourteen  machines  continually  in  commis- 
sion. Allowing  for  one  hundred  per  cent, 
spare  craft  as  standby  for  repairs  and  overhaul, 
twenty-eight  aeroplanes  would  be  required. 
The  approximate  cost  of  such  a  service  is : 

Capital  Charges: 

28  aeroplanes  at  $600,000  each $16,750,000 

28   aeroplane  sheds  at  $50,000  each...  1,400,000 

Land  for  4  aerodromes 500,000 

Workshops  and  equipments 100,000 

Spare  parts,  etc 500,000 

Wireless  equipment 50,000 


Total  capital  required $19,300,000 

Annual  charge  at  10%  interest $1,930,000 


118          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Depreciation  and  Insurance: 
Aeroplanes. 

Useful  life,  say  3  years,  as  for  airships. 
Obsolete  value,  say,  $30,000  per  ma- 
chine. Average  total  depreciation 

per  annum  for  28  machines $5,250,000 

Aeroplane  Sheds. 

Total  annual  charge 60,000 

Workshops  and  Plant. 

Depreciation  at  3%  per  annum 3,000 

Total  annual  charge  for  depreciation 5,314,000 

Total  annual  insurance  charges  on  ma- 
chinery and  plant 1,152,000 

Annual  Establishment  Expenses: 

Salaries  of  36  pilots  at  $3,000  per  annum  $108,000 
Salaries  of  36  engineers  at  $2,000  per  an- 
num         72,000 

Salaries  of  12  stewards  at  $1,500  per  an- 
num        18,000 

Salaries  of  establishment — 

Management  and  staff 25,000 

"Workshop  hands  and  storekeepers,  etc., 

100  off 100,000 

Total  annual  establishment  expenses . . .  $323,000 
Repairs  and  Maintenance: 

Sheds  and  plant,  annual  charge,  say $25,000 

Repairs  and  overhaul  to  machines 50,000 

Total  .  , $75,000 


Total  annual  charges  on  above  basis. .  .$8,792,500 


TEANSATLANTIC  AIR  TEAVEL    119 

Cost  chargeable  per  crossing: 
Proportion  of  annual  charges  per  crossing. .  $7,250 
Petrol  used  per  trip,  28  tons  at  $125  per  ton    3,500 

Oil  per  trip,  2  tons  at  $200  per  ton 400 

Cost  of  food  per  trip  for  29  passengers  and 

crew  of  seven 500 

$11,650 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  above  that  the  direct  run- 
ning cost  is  38%,  and  the  overhead  charges  62%  of 
the  total  cost. 

With  a  weight  of  2.1  tons  available  on  each 
machine  for  passengers  and  mailg  twenty  pas- 
sengers might  be  carried.  To  cover  the  work- 
ing costs  and  interest  they  must  be  charged 
$575  per  head.  The  rate  for  mails  would  be 
$5,500  per  ton. 

Having  made  clear  that  the  airship  is  the  only 
means  of  transatlantic  flight  on  a  paying  basis, 
the  next  point  to  be  considered  is  the  type  of 
dirigible  necessary.  A  discussion  at  present  of 
the  size  of  the  airships  that  will  link  Europe  and 
America  can  be  little  more  substantial  than 
guesswork.  The  British  dirigible  R-34,  which 
last  year  made  the  famous  pioneer  voyage  be- 
tween England  and  the  United  States,  is  too 
small  for  commercial  purposes,  with  its  dispos- 


120          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

able  lift  of  twenty-nine  tons  and  its  gas  capacity 
of  less  than  two  million  cubic  feet.  Experts 
have  predicted  the  use  of  airships  of  five  mil- 
lion and  ten  million  cubic  feet  capacity,  with 
respective  weights  of  thirty  tons  and  one  hun- 
dred tons  available  for  passengers  and  freight. 

It  is  probable,  however,  that  such  colossi 
must  await  birth  for  many  years,  and  that  a  be- 
ginning will  be  made  with  moderate-sized  craft 
of  about  three  million,  five  hundred  thousand 
cubic  feet  capacity,  similar  to  those  that  serve 
as  the  basis  of  the  estimates  for  a  service  be- 
tween London  and  New  York.  A  combination 
of  British  interests  is  planning  to  send  ships  of 
this  type  all  over  the  world.  These  can  be  built 
immediately,  and  there  are  already  in  existence 
suitable  sheds  to  house  them.  Details  of  their 
structure  and  capabilities  may  be  of  interest. 

The  projected  airship  of  three  million,  five 
hundred  thousand  cubic  feet  capacity  is  capable 
of  carrying  a  useful  load  of  fifteen  tons  (pas- 
sengers and  mails)  for  a  distance  of  forty-eight 
hundred  miles  in  eighty  hours,  at  the  normal 
cruising  speed.  The  total  lifting  power  is  one 
hundred  and  five  tons,  and  the  disposable  lift 
(available  for  fuel,  oil,  stores,  crew,  passengers 
and  freight)  is  sixty-eight  tons.  The  maximum 


LUCKY     JIM     AND     TWINKLETOE,     THE     MASCOTS 


THE    TRANSATLANTIC    FLIGHT   ENDED   WITH    A    CRASH    IN    AN    IRISH    BOO 


TEANSATLANTIC  AIR  TRAVEL    121 

engine  power  is  thirty-five  hundred  h.  p.,  the 
maximum  speed  seventy-five  miles  an  hour. 
The  normal  flying  speed,  using  a  cruising  power 
of  two  thousand  h.  p.,  is  sixty  miles  an  hour. 
The  overall  length  is  eight  hundred  feet,  the 
maximum  diameter  and  width  one  hundred  feet, 
and  the  overall  height  one  hundred  and  five  feet. 
These  particulars  and  performances  are  based 
on  present  design,  and  on  the  results  attained 
with  ships  of  two  million  cubic  feet  capacity, 
now  in  service.  The  figures  are  conservative, 
and  it  is  probable  that  a  disposable  lift  greater 
than  that  of  the  specifications  will  be  obtained 
as  a  result  of  improved  structural  efficiency. 

The  passenger  accommodation  will  be  such 
that  the  air  journey  can  be  made  in  comfort 
equal  to  that  on  a  first-class  liner  of  the  sea. 
Apart  from  their  comparatively  small  dispos- 
able lift,  a  main  objection  to  vessels  of  the  R-34 
type  for  commercial  purposes  is  that  the  living 
quarters  are  in  cars  slung  from  under  the  mid- 
dle envelope.  In  this  position  they  are  neces- 
sarily rather  cramped.  In  the  proposed  craft 
of  three  million,  five  hundred  thousand  cubic 
feet  capacity  the  passengers'  quarters  are  at 
the  top  of  the  vessel.  There,  they  will  be  roomy 
and  entirely  free  from  the  vibration  of  the  en- 


122          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

gines.  They  are  reached  through  an  internal 
corridor  across  the  length  of  the  ship,  or  by 
elevator,  from  the  bottom  of  it. 

The  main  room  is  a  large  saloon  lounge  fitted 
with  tables  and  chairs  in  the  style  of  a  Pullman 
car.  Around  it  are  windows,  allowing  for  day- 
light and  for  an  outlook  in  every  direction. 
Part  of  it  is  fire-proofed,  and  serves  as  a  smok- 
ing room. 

Next  to,  and  communicating  with,  the  lounge 
is  the  dining  saloon.  This  leads  to  a  serving 
hatch  and  electrical  cooking  apparatus.  Elec- 
trical power  is  provided  by  dynamos  driven  off 
the  main  engines.  Current  for  electric  lighting 
and  heating  of  the  saloons,  cars  and  sleeping 
quarters  is  provided  by  the  same  method. 

Sleeping  accommodation  is  in  four-berth  and 
two-berth  cabins  on  top  of  the  airship  and  for- 
ward of  the  living  saloons.  The  cabins  are  of 
the  type  and  size  fitted  on  ocean-going  steam- 
ers. With  them  are  the  usual  bathrooms  and 
offices.  Other  conveniences  are  an  open  shelter 
deck  at  the  vessel's  aft  end,  to  enable  passen- 
gers to  take  the  air,  and  an  observation  car,  fit- 
ted below  the  hull  and  also  at  the  aft  end,  so 
that  they  can  observe  the  land  or  sea  directly 
below  them. 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIR  TRAVEL    123 

No  danger  from  fire  need  be  feared.  The  ma- 
chinery installation  is  carefully  insulated  from 
the  gas  bags,  and  the  quarters  are  to  be  ren- 
dered fire-proof  and  gas-proof.  Moreover,  the, 
amount  of  weight  involved  by  the  passengers' 
section  is  so  small,  compared  with  the  weight 
of  the  machinery,  fuel,  cargo  and  stores,  carried 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  craft,  that  the  stability 
of  the  ship  for  rolling  is  unaffected  by  the  novel 
position  of  the  living  quarters. 

The  ship's  officers  will  have  on  the  hull,  to- 
wards the  forward  end,  a  control  and  naviga- 
tion compartment,  containing  the  main  controls, 
navigation  instruments,  charts,  and  a  cabin  for 
the  wireless  telegraphy  installation.  The  win- 
dows of  this  car  give  a  clear  view  in  every 
direction. 

Other  general  specifications  are: 

Hull  Structure. — The  shape  of  the  hull  is  of 
the  most  perfect  stream-line  form  within  the 
limitations  of  constructional  requirements.  An 
internal  keel  corridor,  running  along  the  bottom 
of  the  hull,  contains  all  petrol  and  oil  tanks  and 
the  water  ballast. 

Outer  Covering. — The  outer  cover  is  made  of 
special  weather-proof  fabric,  which  gives  the 
longest  possible  life.  This  fabric  is  as  efficient 


124          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

as  possible  in  insulating  the  gas  from  change  of 
temperature,  and  thus  avoids  great  variations 
in  the  lift. 

Gasbags. — The  gas  capacity  is  divided  up  into 
gasbags  made  of  suitable  rubber-proofed  cotton 
fabric,  lined  with  gold-beaters'  skins.  Gasbags 
will  be  fitted  to  automatic  relief  valves  and  hand 
control  maneuvering  valves. 

Machinery  Cars. — Six  machinery  cars  are 
provided,  each  containing  one  engine  installa- 
tion, with  a  direct-driven  propeller  fitted  at  the 
aft  end.  These  compartments  give  the  mechan- 
ics easy  access  to  each  of  the  six  engines,  and 
allow  them  to  handle  all  parts  of  the  machinery. 
Engine  room  telegraphs  of  the  electrical  type 
communicate  between  the  forward  compartment 
and  each  of  the  machinery  cars. 

Whereas  the  living  quarters  and  the  control 
compartment  must  be  heated  by  electric  radia- 
tors, arrangements  can  be  made  to  warm  the 
machinery  cars  by  utilizing  the  exhaust  heat. 
The  transmission  gear  in  two  of  the  wing  cars 
is  to  be  fitted  with  reversing  gear,  so  that  the 
craft  may  be  driven  astern.  So  that  passengers 
shall  not  be  worried  by  the  usual  roar  of  the 
exhaust,  special  silencers  will  be  fitted.  The 
transmission  gear  is  also  so  arranged  that  all 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIE  TRAVEL    125 

unnecessary  clamor  from  it  may  be  avoided. 

The  engines  run  on  gasoline  fuel,  but  they 
have  devices  whereby  they  can  be  run  alterna- 
tively on  hydrogen  gas.  They  are  designed  to 
develop  their  maximum  power  at  a  height  of 
five  thousand  feet. 

Telephones. — Telephone  communication  links 
all  stations  on  the  airship. 

Landing  Gear. — Inflated  buffer  landing  bags 
of  a  special  type  are  to  be  fitted  underneath  the 
Forward  Control  Compartment  and  under- 
neath the  two  Aft  Machinery  Cars.  These  en- 
able the  airship  to  alight  either  on  land  or  on 
the  sea's  surface. 

Wireless  Telegraphy. — A  powerful  wireless 
telegraphy  installation  is  to  be  fitted  in  the  wire- 
less cabin  in  the  forward  control  compartment. 
It  will  have  a  range  for  sending  and  receiving 
of  at  least  five  thousand  miles. 

Crew. — Two  watches  would  be  required,  tak- 
ing duty  in  eight-hour  shifts.  Both  must  be  on 
duty  when  the  craft  leaves  or  lands.  Each 
watch  consists  of  navigating  officer,  steersman, 
elevator  man,  four  engineers  and  a  wireless 
operator.  With  the  commanding  officer  and  two 
stewards,  whose  duties  are  not  regulated  by 
watches,  the  crew  thus  numbers  nineteen  men. 


126          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Although  the  speed  of  the  airship  at  maxi- 
mum power  is  seventy  miles  per  hour,  the  cross- 
ing normally  would  be  made  at  sixty  miles  per 
hour,  which  only  requires  two  thousand  horse 
power,  and  is  much  more  economical  in  fuel. 
The  full  speed,  however,  can  be  used  whenever 
the  ship  is  obliged  to  voyage  through  storm 
areas  or  against  strong  head  winds.  By  the 
Azores  route,  the  time  needed  for  the  journey 
of  thirty-six  hundred  miles,  at  a  speed  of  sixty 
miles  per  hour,  is  sixty  hours ;  but  to  allow  for 
delays  owing  to  adverse  weather,  the  airship 
would  always  carry  eighty  hours'  fuel,  allow- 
ing for  a  speed  of  sixty  miles  per  hour.  The 
normal  time  for  the  journey  from  London  to 
New  York,  via  Portugal  and  the  Azores  (thirty- 
six  hundred  miles)  would  be,  therefore,  two  and 
one  half  days.  The  normal  time  for  the  journey 
New  York  to  London  by  the  direct  route  (three 
thousand  miles)  would  be  just  over  two  days. 

The  prevailing  wind  on  the  direct  route  is  al- 
most always  from  West  to  East,  which  favors 
the  Eastbound  journey,  but  is  unfavorable  to 
the  Westbound  journey.  It  is  proposed  that 
the  crossing  Eastward  from  New  York  to  Lon- 
don be  made  by  the  most  direct  route,  advan- 
tage thus  being  taken  of  the  Westerly  winds. 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIR  TRAVEL    127 

By  making  the  Westbound  journey  on  the 
Southerly  route,  via  the  Coast  of  Portugal  and 
the  Azores,  and  on  35'  N.  parallel  of  latitude 
across  the  Atlantic,  and  then  to  New  York,  the 
voyage  is  made  in  a  region  where  the  prevailing 
Westerly  winds  of  the  higher  latitudes  are  ab- 
sent, and  only  light  winds  are  encountered,  gen- 
erally of  a  favorable  direction.  This  route, 
however,  adds  about  six  hundred  miles  to  the 
distance.  With  a  ship  speed  of  sixty  miles  per 
hour,  it  would  be  quicker  to  make  the  West- 
bound journey  by  the  direct  route  if  the  West- 
erly wind  did  not  exceed  ten  miles  per  hour.  If 
the  wind  were  greater,  time  would  be  saved  by 
covering  the  extra  six  hundred  miles  of  the 
Southerly  route  and  dodging  the  unfavorable 
air  currents. 

With  four  airships  on  the  Cross-Atlantic  air- 
way, two  only  would  be  in  service  at  a  time, 
so  that  each  could  lay  up  during  alternate  weeks 
for  overhaul  and  re-fit.  As  the  time  of  journey 
between  London  and  New  York  will  vary  be- 
tween fifty  to  sixty  hours,  each  airship  can 
easily  make  two  crossings  or  one  double  journey 
per  week,  thus  giving  a  service,  with  two  diri- 
gibles, of  two  "sailings"  each  way  per  week. 


128          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

The  average  time  table  might  therefore  be  as 
follows : 

LEAVE  LONDON  ARRIVE  NEW  YORK 

Monday  morning  Wednesday  afternoon  or 

evening 
Thursday  morning  Saturday     afternoon     or 

evening 

LEAVE  NEW  YORK  ARRIVE  LONDON 

Monday  afternoon  Thursday  morning 

Thursday  afternoon  Sunday  morning. 

From  available  weather  reports,  it  is  consid- 
ered that  crossings  are  practicable  on  at  least 
three  hundred  days  in  the  year.  Probably  a 
total  of  two  hundred  crossings  in  the  year  could 
be  maintained.  Until  further  study  of  weather 
conditions  supplies  a  certain  knowledge  of  the 
best  possible  altitudes  and  latitudes,  it  is  likely 
that  a  regular  service  of  two  crossings  each  way 
per  week  will  be  maintained  only  in  the  months 
of  May  to  September,  and  that  the  crossings 
from  October  to  April  will  be  irregular,  the  day 
of  departure  being  dependent  on  the  weather. 

"Weather  difficulties  are  likely  to  be  much  less 
severe  than  might  be  imagined.  Bain,  hail  and 
snow  should  have  little  influence  on  the  naviga- 
tion of  airships.  An  outer  covering  that 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIR  TEAVEL    129 

is  rainproof  and  non-absorbent  avoids  the  ab- 
sorption of  water  and  the  consequent  increase 
of  weight.  Hail  and  snow  cannot  adhere  to  the 
surface  of  the  craft  when  in  flight,  owing  to  its 
high  speed  through  the  air;  and,  in  any  case, 
the  precipitation  height  being  not  more  than 
eight  thousand  feet,  they  can  be  avoided  by  fly- 
ing above  this  altitude. 

Fog  may  give  trouble  in  landing,  but  during 
the  journey  an  airship  can  keep  above  it.  If  the 
terminal  were  enveloped  by  fog  an  arriving 
ship  could  pass  on  to  an  emergency  landing 
ground  away  from  the  fog-belt ;  if  the  mistiness 
were  slight,  it  could  remain  in  the  air  until  the 
ground  were  visible,  making  use  of  its  margin 
of  fuel  beyond  the  amount  necessary  for  the 
London-New  York  flight.  Airships  in  fog  may 
be  enabled  to  find  their  landing  ground  by 
means  of  captive  balloons  or  kites,  and  of  strong 
searchlights  from  the  ground.  At  night,  the 
balloons  or  kites  could  carry  electric  lights,  with 
connections  from  the  aerodrome. 

In  any  case,  fog,  rain,  hail  and  snow  are 
nearly  always  local  in  their  occurrence,  and  can 
be  avoided  by  a  short  deviation  from  the  usual 
route.  Atlantic  records  indicate  that  on  the 
main  steamship  routes  fog  sufficient  to  impede 


130          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

navigation  does  not  occur  on  more  than  about 
twelve  days  in  the  year. 

Wind  is  a  factor  that  needs  more  careful 
study  in  its  relation  to  transatlantic  air  naviga- 
tion. In  most  cases,  unduly  strong  winds  can  be 
dodged  by  flying  on  a  higher  level,  or  by  cruis- 
ing on  a  different  course,  so  as  to  avoid  the 
storm  belt.  Heavy  storms,  which  are  usually 
of  a  cyclonic  nature,  rarely  cover  an  area  of 
more  than  two  hundred  miles  diameter.  More- 
over, the  rate  of  progression  of  a  cyclonic  area 
is  much  less  than  the  speed  of  the  air  movement. 
An  airship  is  able  to  shake  off  a  cyclonic  area 
by  a  deviation  from  its  course  of  not  more  than 
two  hundred  miles.  Once  away  from  the  storm 
belt,  it  has  no  difficulty  in  keeping  clear  of  it. 

When  higher  levels  of  the  air  have  been 
charted,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  known  movements  of  the  Atlantic  winds 
will  be  used  to  shorten  air  journeys.  There  are 
at  sea  level,  between  certain  clearly  defined 
latitudes,  prevailing  winds  of  -constant  direc- 
tion. At  greater  heights,  also,  there  is  in  most 
latitudes  a  constant  drift  which,  if  charted, 
might  be  useful  even  if  winds  at  sea  level  were 
unfavorable. 

Although  precise  information  is  available  of 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIE  TEAVEL    131 

the  prevailing  and  periodic  winds  at  sea  level 
in  various  latitudes,  very  little  coordinated 
work  appears  to  have  been  done  in  charting  the 
prevailing  and  seasonal  winds  in  higher  levels 
of  the  atmosphere.  Observations  of  the  air  cur- 
rents over  various  localities  in  the  United 
States,  England  and  Germany  have  been  taken, 
but  very  little  is  known  of  the  winds  above  the 
great  ocean  tracts.  There  is  a  great  necessity 
for  international  research  to  provide  data  for 
predictions  of  weather  conditions  in  the  upper 
atmosphere  and  thus  enable  advantage  to  be 
taken  of  these  higher  currents. 

At  high  altitudes,  constant  winds  of  from 
thirty  to  forty  miles  per  hour  are  common.  If 
the  prevailing  directions  of  those  were  known  to 
airship  navigators,  the  duration  of  the  journey 
could  be  considerably  shortened,  even  if  this 
meant  taking  an  indirect  route.  It  is  undesir- 
able to  fly  at  great  heights  owing  to  the  low  tem- 
perature ;  but  with  suitable  provision  for  heat- 
ing there  is  no  reason  why  flying  at  ten  thou- 
sand feet  should  not  be  common. 

Air  currents  cannot  be  charted  as  exactly  as 
sea  currents ;  but  much  valuable  work  can  and 
will  be  done  by  tabulating  in  detail,  for  the 
guidance  of  air  navigators,  the  tendencies  of 


132          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

the  Atlantic  atmospheric  drifts.  Beliable 
charts,  used  in  conjunction  with  directional 
messages  from  wireless  stations  and  ships,  may 
make  it  possible  for  vessels  on  the  London-New 
York  air  service  always  to  avoid  troublesome 
winds,  as  well  as  storms  and  fogs,  and  to  reduce 
the  percentage  of  risk  to  a  figure  not  exceeding 
that  relative  to  sea  liners. 

For  the  rest,  the  excellence  of  the  most  mod- 
ern engines  and  the  fact  that  one  or  two,  or  even 
three  of  them  can  be  temporarily  out  of  action 
without  affecting  the  airship's  stability  during 
a  flight,  minimize  the  danger  of  a  breakdown 
from  loss  of  power.  The  only  remaining  ob- 
stacle to  reasonable  safety  would  seem  to  be  in 
landing  on  and  departing  from  the  terminal 
during  rough  weather.  This  can  be  overcome 
by  the  recently  patented  Vickers  Mooring  Gear 
for  Eigid  Airships. 

The  gear,  designed  so  as  to  permit  an  airship 
to  land  and  remain  moored  in  the  open  for  ex- 
tended periods  in  any  weather  without  the  use 
of  sheds,  consists  principally  of  a  tall  steel  mast 
or  tower,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in 
height,  with  a  revolving  head  to  which  the  craft 
is  rigidly  attached  by  the  nose,  permitting  it  to 
ride  clear  of  the  ground  and  to  turn  round  in 


TEANSATLANTIC  AIR  TEAVEL    133 

accordance  with  the  direction  of  the  wind.  It  is 
provided  with  a  hauling-in  winch  and  rope  to 
bring  the  ship  up  to  the  mooring  point. 

An  elevator,  for  passengers  and  goods,  runs 
up  the  tower  from  the  ground  to  the  plat- 
form adjoining  the  nose  of  the  airship.  The 
passengers  reach  their  quarters  along  a  passage 
through  the  vessel,  and  the  goods  are  taken 
down  a  runway.  An  airship  moored  to  this 
mast  can  remain  unharmed  in  even  the  worst 
weather,  and  need  be  taken  into  a  shed  only 
when  overhaul  and  repairs  are  necessary. 

In  discussing  the  future  of  transatlantic  flight 
I  have  confined  myself  to  the  projected  service 
between  London  and  New  York.  There  is  likely 
to  be  another  route  over  the  Atlantic — London 
to  Eio  de  Janeiro,  via  Lisbon  and  Sierra  Leone. 
Already  in  London  tickets  are  on  sale  at  $5,000 
apiece  for  the  first  flight  from  London  to  Eio. 
This,  of  course,  is  a  freak  price,  which  covers 
the  distinction  of  being  in  the  first  airship  to 
travel  from  England  to  Brazil.  If  and  when  a 
regular  London-Eio  service  is  established,  the 
ordinary  passenger  rate  should  be  little  more 
than  the  $240  estimated  as  the  air  fare  on  the 
London-New  York  route. 

It  may  be  that  the  London-New  York  air  ser- 


134          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

vice  will  not  arrive  for  many  years.  Sooner  or 
later,  however,  it  must  arrive ;  for  science,  allied 
to  human  enterprise,  never  neglects  a  big  idea. 
It  may  be  that,  when  it  does  arrive,  the  struc- 
ture of  the  craft  and  the  methods  of  navigation 
applied  to  them  will  differ  in  important  details 
from  what  I  have  indicated.  I  make  no  pre- 
tense at  prophecy,  but  have  merely  tried  to 
show  how,  with  the  means  already  at  hand, 
moderately  priced  air  journeys  from  Europe  to 
America  can  be  made  in  two  to  two  and  a  half 
days,  with  comfort,  safety  and  a  high  degree  of 
reliability.  Meanwhile,  much  depends  on  the 
funds  available  for  the  erection  of  stations  for 
directional  wireless  messages,  on  research  into 
the  air  currents  at  various  levels  above  the  At- 
lantic Ocean,  on  the  courage  of  capitalists  in 
promoting  what  seems  to  be  a  very  speculative 
enterprise,  and  on  new  adaptations  of  old  me- 
chanical inventions. 

Already  hundreds  of  aeroplanes,  as  time-sav- 
ing vehicles,  are  used  regularly  in  many  coun- 
tries for  commercial  traffic  over  comparatively 
short  distances — the  carriage  of  mails,  passen- 
gers, valuable  freight  and  urgent  special  jour- 
neys. When,  but  not  until,  the  hundreds  be- 


TRANSATLANTIC  AIE  TRAVEL    135 

come  thousands,  and  the  longer  distances  are  as 
well  served  by  airships  as  are  the  shorter  dis- 
tances by  aeroplanes,  the  world's  air  age  will 
be  in  sight. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  AIR  AGE 

\  LTHOUGH  facts  disappointed  many  over- 
2\.  sanguine  expectations  that  the  billions  of 
dollars  invested  in  aeronautics  during  the  war 
would  pay  direct  dividends  already  in  1919,  the 
year  brought  us  a  long  step  nearer  the  age  of 
universal  flight.  Meantime,  commercial  avia- 
tion is  still  a  long  way  from  the  stage  at  which 
bankers  regard  its  undertakings  as  good  secur- 
ity for  loans. 

Air  routes  have  been  opened  up  in  most  parts 
of  the  world.  Captain  Boss-Smith  has  shown, 
by  his  magnificent  journey  from  England  to 
Australia  in  a  Vickers-Vimy  aeroplane,  that 
long-distance  flights  over  the  most  out-of-the- 
way  lands  and  ocean  tracts  can  be  made  even 
under  the  present  unsatisfactory  conditions,  be- 
fore terminals,  landing  grounds  and  wireless 
stations  are  provided  for  air  pilots  and  naviga- 
tors. The  Atlantic  has  been  crossed  four  times, 
twice  by  a  dirigible,  once  by  an  aeroplane  and 

[136 


MOUTH  ATLAHTIC      ,     X 

HOVTB CHART      «  *  / 


CHART     OF     THE     NORTH     ATLANTIC    SHOWING     COURSE     OF    THE    FLIGHT 


THE    MEN    WHO    WORKED    WITHOUT    GLORY    TO    MAKE    THE    FLIGHT 
POSSIBLE 


THE  AIE  AGE  137 

once  by  a  flying  boat.  Aeroplanes  have  flown 
from  England  to  India.  Aircraft  have  been 
used  for  commercial  purposes  in  every  part  of 
Western  Europe,  in  most  countries  of  North 
and  South  America,  in  Australia,  India,  Egypt 
and  South  Africa,  Important  exhibitions  of 
modern  aircraft,  similar  to  automobile  shows, 
have  been  held  in  London,  New  York,  Paris, 
Amsterdam  and  elsewhere. 

To-day  all  the  Great  Powers  can  show  com- 
mercial air  services  in  full  operation.  Of  these 
the  most  important  are  perhaps  the  triangular 
airways  around  London,  Paris  and  Brussels. 
One  French  and  two  British  companies  operate 
daily  between  London  and  Paris ;  British  craft 
travel  backwards  and  forwards  between  Lon- 
don and  Brussels  three  times  a  week;  and 
French  machines  fly  between  Paris  and  Brus- 
sels every  day. 

The  London-Paris  services  have  established  a 
magnificent  record  for  efficiency  and  regularity. 
Valuable  and  urgent  freight  of  every  kind,  in- 
cluding furs,  dresses,  jewelry,  documents,  a 
bunch  of  keys,  perfume,  a  grand  piano  and  even 
a  consignment  of  lobsters,  have  been  delivered 
in  safety.  Forty  pounds  of  assorted  London 
newspapers  are  taken  each  morning  to  Paris, 


138          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

where  they  are  sold  in  the  streets  on  the  "day  of 
publication  instead  of  next  morning,  as  was  the 
case  when  they  were  forwarded  by  train  and 
packet-boat.  Leading  London  papers,  such  as 
the  Times,  the  Telegraph,  the  Morning  Post,  the 
Daily  Mail,  and  the  Daily  Express,  have  regu- 
lar contracts  with  one  of  the  companies. 

As  for  passengers,  men  of  every  occupation 
take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  travel 
comfortably  from  London  to  Paris  in  two  and 
one-quarter  hours.  There  is  seldom  a  vacant 
seat  on  the  larger  machines ;  although  the  fare 
is  at  present  rather  high,  ranging  from  $75  to 
$105  for  the  single  journey. 

Moreover,  the  accommodation  on  two  of  the 
types  of  aeroplane  now  used — the  Handley- 
Page  W-8  and  the  Airco  DH-18 — is  more 
attractive  than  that  of  a  Pullman  car.  The 
Handley-Page  W-8  carries  fifteen  to  twenty 
passengers  with  personal  luggage,  or  two  tons 
of  freight.  The  Airco  DH-18  takes  eight  pas- 
sengers, with  their  personal  luggage. 

The  past  year  saw  no  specially  important  de- 
velopments of  commercial  aviation  inside  Great 
Britain  itself.  A  week-end  service  between 
Southampton  and  Havre  was  inaugurated,  and 
passengers  and  mails  were  flown  from  London 


THE  AIE  AGE  139 

to  Leeds.  The  most  important  undertaking  was 
perhaps  the  delivery  by  air  of  newspapers.  For 
a  time  the  Manchester  edition  of  the  Daily 
Mail  was  taken  by  air  for  distribution  in  Car- 
lisle, Dundee  and  Aberdeen,  the  last-named 
place  being  reached  in  three  and  one-quarter 
hours  instead  of  the  thirteen  hours  of  train 
journey.  Evening  newspapers  were  carried 
daily  during  the  summer  from  London  to  vari- 
ous resorts  on  the  South  coast. 

The  London-Leeds  undertaking  is  the  only 
regular  service  between  English  towns  that  has 
lasted  for  long.  Elsewhere  the  air  rates  proved 
to*  be  too  high,  and  although  there  were  plenty 
of  aerodromes,  the  promoters  of  aerial  trans- 
port companies  could  not  compete  with  the  all- 
embracing  network  of  railways.  During  the 
great  railway  strike  of  October,  however,  valu- 
able transport  work  was  done  by  aircraft.  For 
the  rest,  aeroplanes  in  England  are  chartered 
as  aerial  taxicabs  for  special  trips,  and  last 
summer  one  or  two  companies  reaped  a  mod- 
erate harvest  by  organizing  pleasure  trips  at 
the  seaside  resorts.  An  airship  or  two  have 
taken  tours  around  the  battlefields  of  France 
and  Flanders.  A  few  wealthy  amateurs  have 
bought  aeroplanes  for  their  private  use. 


140          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Other  European  countries — France,  Italy, 
Holland,  Belgium,  Scandinavia,  Spain  and  Por- 
tugal— have  made  rather  less  progress  in  the 
manufacture  and  development  of  aeroplanes  or 
dirigibles;  but  their  use  of  aircraft  for  com- 
mercial purposes  was  about  the  same  as  that  of 
Britain — newspaper  distribution,  some  special 
journeys,  and  many  joyrides.  French  aviators 
have  opened  tentative  airways  to  Morocco, 
Senegal  and  Tunis.  For  regular  passenger  or 
goods  services  in  continental  Europe  the  high 
cost  of  fuel  and  accessories  makes  the  rates  too 
high.  Also  aerodromes  and  landing  grounds 
are  too  few;  and  seldom  can  aeroplanes  com- 
pete on  a  large  scale  with  railways  over  com- 
paratively short  distances.  Exceptions  are  the 
Paris-Lyons  and  Madrid-Lisbon  airways. 

Germany,  throughout  what  was  for  her  a  ter- 
rible year,  made  further  progress  with  her 
Zeppelin  dirigibles.  A  number  of  return  voy- 
ages were  made  over  the  route  Berlin-Munich- 
Vienna-Constantinople.  The  latest  type  of  Zep- 
pelin is  so  efficient  that  no  weather  conditions, 
except  a  strong  cross-hangar  wind,  prevents  the 
airship  Bodensee  from  making  its  daily  flight  of 
three  hundred  and  ninety  miles  between  Fried- 
richshafen  and  Staalsen,  thirteen  miles  from 


THE  AIE  AGE  141 

j 

Berlin.  The  passenger  carrying  Zeppelins, 
which  prior  to  the  war  provided  the  only  im- 
portant example  of  commercial  aircraft,  claim 
a  remarkable  record.  They  have  carried  more 
than  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  people, 
and  yet  not  one  of  the  passengers  has  been 
killed  or  injured  in  an  accident ;  although  some 
members  of  the  crews  lost  their  lives  in  the 
early  days  of  the  pioneer  Zeppelins. 

The  vast  distances  of  the  United  States  offer 
better  opportunities  for  aeroplane  traffic  than 
the  comparatively  small  and  closely-railwayed 
countries  of  Western  Europe.  There  is  no 
doubt  that,  had  the  United  States  government 
supported  its  aircraft  companies  to  the  same 
extent  as  did  the  British  government,  commer- 
cial aviation  in  America  would  have  traveled 
along  a  smooth  road.  Even  without  this  sup- 
port it  has  made  excellent  progress.  Success- 
ful regular  services  are  established  between  Los 
Angeles  and  San  Diego,  and  elsewhere  in  the 
West,  and  in  the  East  many  passengers  have 
been  carried  between  New  York  and  Atlantic 
City,  and  around  the  coast  of  Florida.  Plans 
are  being  laid  for  various  other  airways,  includ- 
ing one  between  Key  West  and  Havana. 

While  no  continuous  service  for  aerial  goods 


142          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

traffic  exist  in  the  United  States,  aeroplanes  are 
often  chartered  for  special  deliveries.  This  is 
particularly  the  case  in  the  oil  countries  of 
Texas  and  Oklahoma,  where  newly-grown  and 
important  centers  are  off  the  beaten  railroad 
track.  One  company  in  Oklahoma  regularly 
sends  its  employees'  pay  by  aeroplane  from 
town  to  oilfield  camp,  thus  assuring  a  quick  and 
safe  delivery,  free  from  the  necessity  of  armed 
guards  and  the  danger  of  hold-ups.  Other  items 
worth  noting  in  the  United  States'  aerial  his- 
tory of  the  past  twelve  months  are  that  aero- 
planes have  performed  survey  work  and  located 
forest  fires,  that  thirty-two  cities  have  applied 
for  commercial  aerodromes  for  postal,  passen- 
ger and  express  purposes,  and  that  an  advertis- 
ing agency  is  soliciting  aerial  business  that  will 
include  display  work  on  dirigibles,  balloons  and 
aeroplanes,  the  dropping  of  pamphlets  from  the 
air,  and  aerial  photography. 

Where  the  United  States  undoubtedly  leads 
the  way  is  in  the  ownership  and  use  of  privately 
owned  aeroplanes — a  circumstance  partly  ex- 
plained by  the  great  quantities  of  new  money 
being  spent.  For  a  time  some  of  the  American 
manufacturers  were  months  behind  their  post- 
war orders,  and  were  selling  everything  that 


THE  AIE  AGE  143 

could  fly.  One  famous  company  disposed  of 
hundreds  of  pleasure  craft  at  $7,500  apiece. 
Many  buyers,  impatient  of  delay,  accepted  im- 
mediate delivery  of  training  machines,  rather 
than  wait  for  the  pleasure  craft.  Eeputable 
agencies  dealing  in  second-hand  aeroplanes 
bought  from  the  United  States  and  Canadian 
governments,  disposed  of  thousands  of  ma- 
chines and  could  not  obtain  enough  to  satisfy 
all  their  clients.  An  interesting  development 
was  the  idea  of  community  aeroplanes,  pur- 
chased and  maintained  jointly  by  small  groups 
of  people  living  in  the  same  residential  district. 
The  United  States  postal  authorities  have 
satisfactorily  maintained  aerial  mail  services 
over  the  route  New  York- Washington-Cleve- 
land-Chicago. After  some  preliminary  fiascos 
these  became  reliable,  besides  being  very 
speedy,  as  compared  with  train  schedules.  For 
June  the  Washington-New  York  air  mail 
achieved  ninety-nine  per  cent,  efficiency,  and  the 
Cleveland-Chicago  route  one  hundred  per  cent. 
The  latter  never  missed  a  day  in  May  and  June, 
and  not  a  single  forced  landing  occurred  dur- 
ing the  first  seventy  days.  At  the  close  of  1919 
the  air  mails  showed  a  surplus  of  $19,000  of 
revenue  over  working  costs,  on  a  basis  of  two 


144          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

cents  charge  for  each  ounce  of  mail  matter  car- 
ried. Better  results  are  expected  now  that 
specially  constructed  machines,  with  freight 
capacities  of  one  thousand  pounds  and  upward, 
are  ready  for  use. 

The  British  dominions  and  dependencies  take 
a  great  interest  in  aeronautics,  and  last  year 
saw  satisfactory  beginnings  in  some  of  them. 
In  Australia,  for  example,  a  passenger  and 
freight  service  links  Sydney  and  Port  Darwin, 
over  a  distance  of  twenty-five  hundred  miles, 
with  intervening  stations.  Plans  are  ready  for 
regular  flights  from  North  to  South  of  the  con- 
tinent, and  also  from  East  to  West,  across  the 
difficult  country  between  New  South  Wales  and 
Victoria  on  the  one  hand,  and  Western  Austra- 
lia on  the  other. 

Canada  has  found  a  highly  successful  use  for 
aeroplanes  in  prospecting  the  Labrador  timber 
country.  A  group  of  machines  returned  from 
an  exploration  with  valuable  photographs  and 
maps  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars' 
worth  of  forest  land.  Aerial  fire  patrols,  also, 
have  been  sent  out  over  the  forests.  While  no 
important  air  route  for  passenger  carrying  is 
yet  utilized  in  Canada,  there  is  a  certain  amount 
of  private  flying,  and  air  journeys  for  business 


THE  AIE  AGE  145 

- 

purposes  are  common.  Plans  have  been  pre- 
pared for  a  regular  service  between  Newfound- 
land and  cities  on  the  mainland,  thus  saving 
many  hours  over  the  time  schedules  perpetrated 
by  the  little  Newfoundland  railway. 

In  the  South  African  Union,  where  the  rail- 
way system  by  no  means  corresponds  with  the 
vast  distances,  many  passengers  and  mails  are 
carried  by  air  from  Johannesburg  to  Pretoria, 
Maritzburg,  Durban  and  Cape  Town.  Later, 
when  the  services  over  these  routes  are  better 
organized,  they  will  doubtless  be  extended  to 
important  centers  in  Khodesia,  the  East  Africas 
and  what  was  German  South- West  Africa. 

Aeroplanes  in  India  take  passengers  over  the 
route  Calcutta-Simla  in  twelve  to  fourteen 
hours  of  cool  roominess,  as  compared  with 
forty-two  hours  of  stuffy  oppressiveness  on  a 
train.  Other  Indian  air  routes  in  preparation 
are  Calcutta-Bombay,  Calcutta-Darjeeling  and 
Calcutta-Puri.  The  air  fare  in  India  averages 
about  11  cents  a  mile. 

Aerodromes  and  landing  grounds  are  already 
prepared  between  Egypt  and  India,  and  several 
machines  have  made  the  journey  from  Cairo  to 
Delhi,  via  Damascus,  the  Syrian  Desert,  Bag- 
dad, Bandar  Abbas  and  Karachi.  Elsewhere 


146          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

in  the  East — the  Malay  Peninsula,  Singapore, 
Borneo,  Java  and  China — similar  routes  are 
planned.  The  whole  of  Eastern  Africa,  from 
Cairo  to  Cape  Town,  has  been  mapped  out  for 
the  use  of  aircraft,  with  landing  grounds  at 
short  intervals. 

So  much  for  accomplishment  during  the  past 
year.  What  the  future  and  the  near-future 
have  in  store  for  aeronautics  is  problematical, 
and  any  detailed  analysis  must  be  conjecture. 
The  general  trend  of  development  during  the 
next  two  years  may  be  forecast,  however,  with  a 
fair  degree  of  accuracy. 

Anybody  who  blends  sane  imagination  with 
some  knowledge  of  the  history  of  aeronautics 
must  realize  that  what  has  been  achieved  is  very 
little  in  comparison  with  what  can  be  achieved. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  make  trite  comparisons 
with  the  first  stages  of  steam  locomotives  or 
motor  cars. 

Yet,  it  is  folly  to  expect  an  air  age  now.  Its 
coming  will  be  delayed  by  the  necessity  of  slow, 
painstaking  research,  and  by  the  fact  that  in  the 
countries  which  are  encouraging  aviation  to  the 
greatest  degree,  capital  is  no  longer  fluid  and 
plentiful,  and  money  in  substantial  sums  can- 
not be  risked  on  magnificent  experiments.  The 


THE  AIR  AGE  147 

cost  of  building  fleets  of  dirigibles  and  hosts  of 
air  terminals,  for  example,  must  be  enormous ; 
and  until  it  has  been  demonstrated  beyond  ques- 
tion that  they  will  be  paying  propositions,  finan- 
ciers and  investors  are  unlikely  to  be  interested 
in  their  concrete  possibilities  on  a  large  scale. 

Unless  some  startling  innovation — a  much 
cheaper  fuel  for  example,  or  a  successful  heli- 
copter— revolutionizes  commercial  aviation,  its 
near-future  is  unlikely  to  stray  beyond  the  ex- 
tension of  airways  over  distances  of  about  five 
hundred  to  two  thousand  miles.  These  are 
likely  to  be  covered  mostly  by  heavier-than-air 
craft,  although,  as  in  Germany,  dirigibles  will 
have  their  place. 

Extension  of  air  traffic  is  especially  probable 
in  industrial  and  agricultural  countries  of  large 
area,  such  as  the  United  States,  Canada,  Aus- 
tralia, India  and  the  South  American  republics. 
Another  projected  development  with  immediate 
possibilities  is  the  linking  of  regions  that  are 
separated  by  a  comparatively  narrow  expanse 
of  water.  Obvious  examples,  in  addition  to 
Britain  and  France,  are  England  and  Ireland, 
the  Mediterranean  coast  of  France  and  the 
Mediterranean  coast  of  Africa,  and  Florida  and 
Cuba. 


148          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

Traffic  across  the  ocean  or  a  great  lake  offers 
to  air  travel  the  best  time-saving  inducement. 
To  connect  two  places  separated  by  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  of  water,  an  average  steam- 
ship needs  ten  hours.  A  passenger  on  it  must 
spend  at  least  one  night  away  from  home,  while 
transacting  his  business.  An  air  passenger 
covers  the  same  distance  in  one  and  one-half  to 
two  hours,  and  can  return  on  the  same  day. 
For  such  transport  the  seaplane  and  the  flying 
boat  will  have  their  chance. 

Besides  the  carriage  of  passengers,  mails  and 
valuable  freight,  aviation  will  have  many  addi- 
tional functions.  Maps  may  be  made  and 
checked  with  absolute  accuracy  by  means  of 
aerial  photography.  Another  important  func- 
tion of  the  aeroplane  and  the  aerial  camera  is 
to  explore  and  prospect  undeveloped,  districts. 
In  places  remote  from  the  ordinary  facilities  of 
civilization  aircraft  may  be  used  for  the  dis- 
covery of  fire,  flood  and  lawlessness.  Already 
the  Canadian  Northwest  Mounted  Police  have 
captured  wrongdoers  by  means  of  aeroplane  pa- 
trols. 

Aircraft  offer  particular  advantages  as  car- 
riers in  regions  where  the  natural  obstacles  on 
the  ground  prohibit  railway  or  road  transport. 


THE  AIR  AGE  149 

In  Alaska  valuable  metals  and  furs  are  brought 
to  civilization  on  sleds  drawn  by  dogs,  over 
paths  that  are  circuitous  and  dangerous.  They 
could  be  taken  in  safety,  and  with  an  immense 
saving  of  time,  by  aeroplanes  fitted  with  skids 
suitable  for  landing  on  ice  and  snow.  Again, 
copper  is  transported  from  mines  in  the  Andes 
by  llamas,  which  are  slow  and  must  jog  over 
devious  tracks.  Aeroplanes  could  make  the 
journey  directly  and  speedily,  from  mine  to 
coast,  without  regard  to  precipice,  marsh  or 
forest. 

South  America  is  likely  to  be  a  happy  hunt- 
ing-ground for  aeronautical  pioneers.  The 
mountain-range  of  the  Andes,  which  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles  sharply  divides  America  into  two 
parts,  gives  aviation  an  incontestable  oppor- 
tunity. The  eastern  section  of  South  America 
could  be  brought  days  nearer  the  western  sec- 
tion by  high-climbing  aircraft,  which  would  pro- 
vide a  pleasant  alternative  to  the  roundabout, 
uncomfortable  journeying  now  necessary.  The 
air  mails  between  the  two  great  commercial 
centers  of  South  America — Eio  de  Janeiro  and 
Buenos  Ayres — should  also  save  many  days  of 
valuable  time.  Many  owners  of  ranches  and 
plantations  in  the  Argentine,  Uruguay,  Para- 


150          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

guay  and  Brazil  are  buying  aeroplanes  to  bring 
their  isolated,  up-country  properties  in  closer 
contact  with  the  towns. 

Asia  and  Africa  have  similar  geographical 
problems,  to  which  air  traffic  might  find  a  ready 
solution.  Each  of  these  continents  has  enor- 
mous areas  that,  because  of  the  absence  of  good 
railways,  are  either  unproductive  or  much  less 
productive  than  their  resources  warrant.  A 
few  of  many  such  cases  are  Turkestan,  Central 
Arabia,  parts  of  China,  Siberia,  Thibet,  and 
the  whole  of  Central  Africa.  Most  of  these  are 
rich  in  minerals.  Meanwhile,  aeroplanes  have 
flown  between  the  desert  marts  of  Damascus 
and  Bagdad  in  eight  to  ten  hours.  These  cities 
are  not  yet  linked  by  railroad  and  a  camel  cara- 
van over  the  Syrian  desert  covers  the  same 
route  in  two  weeks  to  a  month.  The  same  con- 
ditions apply  to  the  Gobi  desert.  i 

So  far  I  have  dealt  with  the  future  of  com- 
mercial aeronautics  almost  entirely  in  terms  of 
heavier-than-air  machines.  These — land  planes, 
seaplanes  and  flying  boats — have  at  present  a 
useful  radius  of  non-stop  flight  confined  to  dis- 
tances of  under  one  thousand  miles.  The  limi- 
tation must  remain  until  changes  in  the  basic 
principles  of  aeroplane  construction  are  so  al- 


THE  AIE  AGE  151 

tered  as  to  give  a  much  greater  speed  in  pro- 
portion to  fuel  consumption.  One  such  change 
may  be  the  introduction  of  wings  with  variable 
camber.  This,  by  permitting  variations  in  the 
angle  of  incidence,  would  make  possible  a  quick 
ascent  at  a  steep  inclination,  and  a  very  fast  for- 
ward speed  once  the  required  height  had  been 
attained.  The  benefits  from  variable  camber 
could  be  increased  by  the  introduction  of  a  pro- 
peller with  a  variable  pitch.  Going  still  further 
in  the  same  direction,  we  may  find  any  day  that 
one  of  the  attempts  in  various  countries  to  de- 
sign and  construct  a  successful  helicopter  has 
matured,  producing  a  machine  which,  by  reason 
of  a  very  powerful  propeller  on  a  moveable 
shaft  that  can  be  inclined  in  any  direction, 
will  not  only  rise  and  descend  vertically,  but 
also  may  be  made  to  travel  forward  at  a  great 
speed  and  to  perform  such  acrobatic  tricks  as 
sudden  halts,  retreats  and  jumps. 

All  this,  however,  is  surmise;  and  we  are 
faced  with  the  fact  that  until  the  design  of  aero- 
planes differs  radically  from  its  present  form, 
heavier-than-air  flying  apparatuses  are  limited 
as  to  maximum  size  by  certain  structural  prin- 
ciples too  complicated  for  explanation  in  this 
non-technical  analysis.  A  further  limitation  is 


152          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

imposed  by  the  space  needed  by  the  largest 
machines  for  leaving  the  ground  or  landing. 

Within  these  bounds  it  has  been  found  that 
the  maximum  capacity  for  passengers  and 
freight  does  not  greatly  exceed  one  and  one- 
half  to  two  tons  for  a  non-stop  journey  of  five 
hundred  miles  in  still  air.  Lesser  distances  do 
not  increase  the  useful  load  appreciably,  but 
greater  distances  decrease  it ;  until  for  a  radius 
of  about  twenty-five  hundred  miles  the  whole 
of  the  disposable  lift  is  needed  for  fuel,  and 
nothing  else  may  be  carried. 

For  long  journeys  over  land,  therefore,  the 
aeroplane  must  come  to  earth  for  replenishment 
of  fuel  every  five  hundred  miles.  Even  for  this 
distance  it  cannot  take  more  than  one  and  one- 
half  to  two  tons  beyond  the  weight  of  fuel  and 
crew.  If  heavier  loads  are  to  be  transported, 
more  machines  must  be  used.  Finally  there 
comes  a  point  at  which  a  single  airship,  carry- 
ing a  heavy  freight  over  five  hundred  miles,  is 
more  economical  than  several  aeroplanes.  For 
non-stop  flights  of  over  one  thousand  miles  the 
same  considerations  make  the  airship  always 
more  economical  than  the  aeroplane. 

Over  the  ocean  the  flying  boat  can  beat  the 
dirigible  in  time  and  cost  up  to  five  hundred 


THE  AIE  AGE  153 

miles.  Even  at  one  thousand  miles  it  is  a  com- 
mercial proposition,  but  it  must  then  have  all 
in  its  favor.  For  longer  distances  the  airship 
has  no  competitor.  It  may  be  deduced  that  in 
years  to, come,  when  the  world's  airways  are  in 
general  operation,  heavier-than-air  machines 
will  bring  freight  to  the  great  airports,  there 
to  be  transferred  to  dirigibles  and  by  them  car- 
ried to  the  earth's  uttermost  ends. 

The  time  for  this  seeming  Utopia  is  not  yet, 
however,  although  a  group  of  airship  interests 
in  England  are  now  planning  airship  services 
that  may  eventually  set  London  within  two  and 
a  half  days  of  New  York,  one  and  a  half  days 
of  Cairo,  four  of  Bio  de  Janeiro,  five  and  a  half 
of  Cape  Town  and  seven  of  Australia.  But  first 
must  come  bold  expenditure,  very  careful  or- 
ganization, many-sided  research  and  improved 
invention. 

Although  no  claim  is  made  that  present-day 
airships  can  compete  for  reliability  with  rail- 
road trains  and  ocean  liners,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  a  sufficient  number  of  passengers  are  pre- 
pared to  pay  relatively  higher  rates  for  the 
great  saving  in  time  taken  for  long  distance 
journeys,  particularly  over  the  ocean. 

The  demand  would  be  mainly  for  the  car- 


154          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

riage  of  express  freight  and  mail  matter  and  for 
passenger  traffic  to  serve  people  who  wish  to 
get  from  center  to  center  in  the  shortest  pos- 
sible time.  Another  use  for  large  airships 
would  be  the  carrying  of  freight  of  high  intrin- 
sic value,  such  as  valuable  ores,  from  places 
otherwise  inaccessible,  or  not  provided  with 
other  means  of  direct  transport. 

To  meet  the  requirements  of  various  pur- 
poses for  which  airships  may  be  utilized,  diri- 
gibles of  four  kinds  are  projected : 

First,  the  airship  of  moderate  size  and  high 
speed  for  carrying  express,  mails  and  passen- 
gers. 

Secondly,  the  air  liner  solely  for  passenger 
traffic,  of  a  large  size  and  speed. 

Thirdly,  the  large  airship  of  comparatively 
slow  speed,  and  great  carrying  capacity,  for 
general  transport. 

Fourthly,  the  small  non-rigid  airship  for 
private  purchase  and  upkeep  as  an  aerial  yacht. 

The  rigid  airship  is  as  yet  only  at  the  begin- 
ning of  its  development,  particularly  as  regards 
size  and  carrying  capacity.  The  airship  of 
three  million,  five  hundred  thousand  cubic  feet 
capacity,  for  immediate  use  on  the  fast  passen- 
ger services,  carrying  a  load  of  passengers  of 


Vickers  L^-Wey bridge  Aeroplane  Works.] 
THE     VICKERS    AEROPLANE     WORKS    AT    WEYBRIDGE,    ENGLAND 


COMFORT    CAN    BE    ENJOYED    IN    AIR    TRAVEL    TODAY 


THE  AIE  AGE  155 

fifteen  tons  for  a  distance  of  forty-eight  hun- 
dred miles,  might  be  built  immediately,  and 
could  be  housed  in  sheds  at  present  available. 
As  the  lift  and  speed  efficiency  of  a  rigid  air- 
ship increases  rapidly  in  proportion  to  the  ves- 
sel's size,  it  will  be  advantageous  to  use  the 
largest  airships  that  can  be  economically  oper- 
ated. A  rigid  dirigible  able  to  carry  fifty  tons 
of  passengers  and  freight  for  ten  thousand 
miles  at  a  speed  of  eighty  miles  an  hour  is  quite 
feasible;  and  the  design  and  construction  of 
such  an  airship  could  be  undertaken  immedi- 
ately if  it  were  justified  by  the  demand  for  air 
transport. 

The  ships  of  three  million,  five  hundred  thou- 
sand cubic  feet  capacity,  which  can  be  housed 
and  flown  for  commercial  purposes  as  soon  as 
the  required  terminals  and  navigational  facili- 
ties are  ready,  will  approximate  to  those  de- 
scribed as  being  suitable  for  a  transatlantic 
service.  If  standardized  for  adaptation  to  all 
conditions  and  world  routes,  they  should  be 
capable  of  a  non-stop  flight  of  about  eighty 
hours,  at  an  average  speed  of  sixty  miles  an 
hour. 

To  prevent  wastage  and  reduce  the  running 
costs,  several  economical  devices  for  dealing 


156          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

with  height  equilibrium  are  needed.  On  long 
flights  the  greatest  problems  are  maintenance 
of  the  airship  at  a  constant  height,  and  avoid- 
ance of  the  loss  of  gas  consequent  on  expansion 
when  the  ship  rises  as  it  loses  weight  by  the 
consumption  of  fuel.  Owing  to  the  great  varia- 
tion in  temperature  between  day  and  night,  the 
ship  becomes  heavy  at  night  owing  to  the  lower 
temperature,  and  light  during  the  day,  as  a  re- 
sult of  the  higher  temperature.  A  discharge  of 
ballast  at  nightfall,  and  of  gas  in  the  morning, 
is  needed  to  keep  it  in  equilibrium.  To  obvi- 
ate discharge  of  gas,  and  the  necessity  of  start- 
ing with  a  large  weight  of  ballast,  it  is  proposed 
to  run  a  proportion  of  the  engines  on  hydrogen 
fuel,  so  that  the  hydrogen  can  be  consumed  at 
such  a  rate  that  the  loss  of  lift  equals  the  loss 
of  weight  of  fuel  consumed  by  the  other  engines, 
thus  economically  using  hydrogen  which  other- 
wise would  be  lost  through  the  discharge  of  the 
gas  valves. 

I  make  the  supposition  that  hydrogen,  and 
not  helium,  will  be  the  sustaining  gas.  For  com- 
mercial aviation  it  has  many  advantages,  for 
helium  is  dearer  and  rarer,  and  has  about 
twenty  per  cent,  less  lift.  Contrary  to  general 
belief,  a  flight  in  an  airship  filled  with  hydrogen, 


THE  AIE  AGE  157 

subject  to  proper  precautions,  has  no  greater 
fire  risk  than  living  near  a  gas  factory.  Helium 
is  a  necessity  only  for  airships  used  in  war,  as, 
unlike  hydrogen,  it  is  not  ignited  by  incendiary 
bullets  from  hostile  aircraft.  The  United  States 
has  almost  a  monopoly  of  the  world's  quanti- 
tative supply  of  helium,  which  fact  should  be  a 
tremendous  asset  in  wartime. 

The  ballast  difficulty  can  be  met  by  apparatus 
to  condense  the  water  of  combustion  from  the 
exhaust  gases  of  the  engines.  Experiments 
have  shown  that  it  is  practicable  to  recover 
water  of  slightly  greater  weight  than  the  gaso- 
line fuel  consumed,  thus  avoiding  any  variation 
in  lift  due  to  gasoline  consumption.  Further, 
water  ballast  could  be  picked  up  periodically 
from  the  sea  by  descending  and  taking  in  water 
through  a  pump  suspended  from  a  flexible  hose, 
or  direct  into  tanks  in  the  gondolas  through  sea- 
valves. 

Still  further  reduction  of  running  costs  may 
be  effected  by  fuel  economy.  This  would  be 
difficult  with  internal  combustion  engines  of  the 
type  in  use  at  present,  for  greater  thermal  ef- 
ficiency (the  ratio  between  the  amount  of  heat 
contained  in  the  fuel  consumed  and  the  amount 
of  useful  work  delivered  by  the  engine)  neces- 


158          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

sitates  heavier  machinery.  The  reduction  in 
gasoline  consumption  is  thus  offset  by  a  de- 
crease in  the  disposable  lift.  It  is  probable  that 
a  saving  on  large  dirigibles  might  result  from 
substituting  for  the  internal  combustion  method 
of  generating  power  engines  that  burn  cheap 
oils.  Although  such  engines  are  much  heavier, 
and  although  the  crude  oils  weigh  a  good  deal 
more  than  gasoline,  the  difference  would  be 
more  than  covered  on  long  flights,  for  gasoline 
is  nearly  four  times  dearer  than  crude  oil. 
Moreover,  the  weight  of  oil  actually  consumed 
would  be  about  twenty  per  cent,  less  than  that 
of  the  gasoline  burned  by  internal  combustion 
engines  over  the  same  distance. 

The  solution  may  be  in  the  employment  of 
steam.  For  the  rather  low  standards  of  horse- 
power on  which  dirigibles  are  driven,  heavy 
steam  engines  of  the  ordinary  type,  although 
much  more  reliable,  would  be  less  economical 
than  internal  combustion  engines,  owing  to  the 
latter 's  better  thermal  efficiency.  Engineers  are 
attempting  to  evolve  a  light  type  of  steam  tur- 
bine that  will  overcome  this  drawback. 

Of  equal  importance  to  fuel  economy  is  a  bet- 
ter system  of  airship  navigation.  This  is  simi- 
lar in  principle  to  steamship  navigation,  but  it 


THE  AIE  AGE  159 

is  made  more  complicated  by  the  much  greater 
drift  of  atmospheric  currents.  Moreover,  air 
currents  can  never  be  charted  as  exactly  as  sea 
currents.  An  excellent  meteorological  organ- 
ization, for  reporting  motions  of  the  air  at  given 
times,  is  therefore  essential. 

When  flying  over  land  a  navigator  can  deter- 
mine the  drift  of  his  vessel  by  taking  observa- 
tion on  a  suitable  fixed  point  on  the  earth's  sur- 
face, and  adjusting  his  compass  course  accord- 
ingly. It  is  probable  that  a  gyroscopic  compass 
will  be  the  standard  type  for  dirigibles.  Many 
aviators  have  experienced  difficulties  with  the 
magnetic  compass  on  long  flights;  although  it 
has  served  me  well  always,  especially  on  my 
transatlantic  flight  as  Captain  Alcock's  naviga- 
tor. 

Over  the  sea  no  fixed  point  is  available,  so 
that  the  motion  of  the  wind  must  be  checked 
periodically.  One  method  is  for  the  navigator 
to  make  astronomical  observations,  and  from 
them  deduce  his  position  on  the  chart.  Another 
may  be  the  use  of  bombs  which  ignite  on  the 
water  and  give  out  a  dense  smoke  or  a  bright 
light,  lasting  for  several  minutes.  During  the 
day  the  navigator  sights  on  the  smoke,  and  dur- 
ing the  night  on  the  light,  and  thus  discovers 


160          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

the  wind's  velocity  and  direction.  An  invention 
that  could  simplify  navigation  would  be  some 
form  of  ground-speed  meter,  showing  at  a 
glance  the  rate  of  progress  over  the  earth  (as 
distinct  from  air  speed),  with  either  a  follow- 
ing or  a  contrary  wind. 

The  most  valuable  means  of  airship  naviga- 
tion will  be  that  of  directional  wireless.  Com- 
munication from  two  separate  stations,  which 
could  be  either  land  terminals  or  stationary 
ships  in  the  ocean,  gives  the  direction  of  the 
transmitted  wireless  waves  and  signals  to  the 
dirigible  its  bearings.  The  position  is  then  laid 
off  on  the  chart,  and  the  course  regulated  ac- 
cordingly. This  method  was  used  by  the  Ger- 
man Zeppelins  during  the  war. 

Of  equal  importance  to  the  structural  and 
navigational  equipment  of  airships  is  the  pro- 
vision of  suitable  terminals  for  each  route. 
These  would  require,  among  other  necessities, 
an  aerodrome  of  about  one  mile  square ;  a  double 
airship  shed  capable  of  housing  two  vessels ;  a 
mooring-out  tower;  mechanical  gear  for  trans- 
ferring an  airship  from  the  mooring  tower  to 
the  shed;  hydrogen  generating  and  storage 
plant;  repair  workshops  and  stores;  meteoro- 
logical offices ;  wireless  telegraphy  installation ; 


THE  AIR  AGE  161 

electrical  night  signaling  and  landing  arrange- 
ments; a  station  on  the  local  railway  from  the 
main  part  of  the  city ;  a  hotel ;  a  garage ;,  and 
customs  and  booking  offices. 

The  aerodrome  must  be  a  short  distance  from 
the  city  served  by  the  airship  service.  If  pos- 
sible it  should  be  near  a  chemical  works  where 
hydrogen  could  be  produced  as  a  by-product. 
The  ground  would  be  preferably  on  a  site  re- 
mote from  hills  and  other  topographical  fea- 
tures likely  to  cause  air  disturbances. 

The  double  sheds  for  housing  vessels  of  the 
size  specified,  three  million,  five  hundred  thou- 
sand cubic  feet  capacity,  would  have  two  berths, 
the  minimum  dimensions  of  each  of  which  must 
be  eight  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  wide,  and  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  feet  high.  Their  contents  should  in- 
clude hydrogen  filling  mains  and  gear  for  sling- 
ing the  airships  from  the  roof  when  deflated  for 
overhaul.  Special  arrangements  would  be  made 
for  rapid  replenishment  of  the  ships  with  gas, 
fuel,  and  water  ballast. 

If  no  industrial  supply  of  hydrogen  were  pro- 
vided by  a  nearby  factory,  the  aerodrome 
should  have  a  generating  plant  capable  of  pro- 
ducing fifty  thousand  cubic  feet  of  hydrogen  per 


162          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

hour.  Gasometer  storage,  with  a  capacity  of 
about  five  hundred  thousand  cubic  feet,  is  also 
a  necessity. 

The  meteorological  office  would  issue  weather 
reports  for  the  guidance  of  airship  navigators, 
and  issue  navigating  instructions  to  them  by 
means  of  the  wireless  installation.  The  latter 
should  have  a  range  of  at  least  five  thousand 
miles. 

Each  aerodrome  would  be  provided  with 
suitable  electric  light  signals  to  indicate  the 
position  of  the  landing  ground  to  incoming  ships 
at  night,  as  well  as  landing  lights  to  point  the 
way  to  the  mooring  tower.  Trolleys  running 
on  guide  rails,  with  electrically  driven  gear, 
could  move  a  dirigible  from  the  tower  to  the 
shed  with  a  minimum  of  man  power. 

A  suitable  mooring  tower  constitutes  an 
enormous  saving  of  time  and  labor.  The  Vick- 
ers  Patent  Mooring  Gear,  which  has  been  tested 
satisfactorily,  can  be  worked  by  half  a  dozen 
men;  whereas  the  old  method  of  rope  pulling 
and  dragging  needs  two  to  four  hundred  men 
for  landing  an  airship  of  three  million,  five  hun- 
dred thousand  cubic  feet  capacity. 

With  existing  methods,  a  rigid  airship  must 
be  housed  in  a  suitable  shed  when  not  in  flight. 


THE  AIR  AGE  163 

The  danger  and  difficulty  of  removing  the  ship 
from  its  shed,  and  returning  it  safely  thereto 
after  a  journey,  restricts  the  number  of  actual 
flying  days  in  the  year  to  those  on  which  such 
operations  can  be  performed  without  risk  of 
damage,  although  a  modern  rigid  airship  may 
be  in  the  air  with  efficiency  and  perfect  safety  in 
practically  any  state  of  the  weather.  The  Pat- 
ent Mooring  Gear  renders  the  landing  inde- 
pendent of  the  weather,  while  calling  for  the 
attendance  of  only  six  men  to  actuate  the  vari- 
ous mechanical  devices  employed. 

In  principle,  the  gear  consists  of  a  tall  steel 
mast,  of  such  a  height  that  when  the  ship  is  at- 
tached by  the  nose  it  rides  on  an  even  keel  at  a 
height  of  upwards  of  one  hundred  feet.  The 
mast  has  at  the  top  a  platform  or  deck.  The 
head  of  the  tower  is  entirely  enclosed  and  con- 
tains the  necessary  apparatus  for  bringing  a 
vessel  to  rest.  This  top  portion  is  designed  to 
rotate,  so  that  a  ship,  when  moored,  may  always 
lie  directly  head  to  wind. 

Access  to  the  upper  deck  of  the  masthead  is 
obtained  by  means  of  an  elevator,  which  allows 
passengers  to  enter  the  ship  in  comfort.  Be- 
hind the  deck  is  a  compartment  containing  Ihe 
landing  gear.  This  consists  of  an  electrically 


164          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

driven  winding-  engine,  fitted  with  about  one 
thousand  feet  of  the  highest  quality  flexible 
steel  wire  rope,  together  with  any  automatic 
coupling.  In  the  compartment  are  also  pipes 
for  the  supply  to  the  ship  of  hydrogen,  gasoline, 
oil  and  water  from  the  main  reservoirs,  situated 
on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  mast.  The 
vessel  itself  is  fitted  with  apparatus  comple- 
mentary to  that  housed  in  the  masthead.  From 
the  nose  projects  the  attachment  which  is 
gripped  by  the  automatic  coupling,  while  in  the 
bow  is  situated  a  storage  drum  and  winch  for 
six  hundred  feet  of  wire  rope. 

On  approaching  the  aerodrome,  the  ship  wire- 
lesses its  intention  to  land.  The  masthead 
mooring  rope  is  then  threaded  through  the 
automatic  coupling,  and  paid  out  until  the  free 
end  reaches  the  ground  below.  This  end  of  the 
rope  is  attached  by  a  shackle  to  the  rear  of  a 
light  car,  which  is  driven  away  from  the  mast 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  ship  is  ap- 
proaching, while  the  rope  uncoils  from  the  drum 
above.  When  at  a  distance  of  seven  hundred  or 
eight  hundred  feet  from  the  foot  of  the  mast 
the  men  in  charge  of  the  gear  unshackle  the 
rope,  and  spread  landing  signs  that  indicate  to 
the  airship  pilot  their  position  on  the  ground. 


THE  AIR  AGE  165 

On  arrival  over  the  landing  party,  the  ship's 
bow  mooring  rope  is  released,  and  runs  out 
from  the  bow  attachment  under  the  influence  of 
a  weight  of  several  hundred  pounds  in  the  form 
of  sandbags.  Two  men  of  the  party  on  the 
ground  below  take  charge  of  the  rope,  un- 
shackle the  sandbags,  and  effect  a  junction  with 
the  mooring  mast  rope,  which  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  remaining  men  of  the  landing  party.  The 
rope  ends  are  coupled  together  by  means  of  a 
self-locking  coupling,  which  enables  the  junc- 
tion to  be  made  within  five  seconds. 

The  dirigible  is  now  connected  with  the  head 
of  the  mooring  mast  by  a  long  length  of  steel 
wire  rope.  On  receiving  a  signal  from  the 
ground  party,  the  men  in  charge  of  the  winding 
gear  in  the  masthead  haul  in.  As  the  rope 
tautens,  ballast  is  discharged  from  the  ship, 
which  is  slowly  hauled  into  connection  with  the 
automatic  coupling  already  set  in  the  open  po- 
sition to  receive  the  attachment  on  the  nose. 
When  once  this  coupling  is  closed,  the  mooring 
ropes  can  be  dispensed  with,  the  ship 's  rope  be-  ' 
ing  re-wound  on  to  the  storage  drum  in  the 
bows. 

After  landing  at  the  masthead,  connection  is 
made  with  the  hydrogen,  gasoline,  oil,  and  water 


166          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

mains,  and  fresh  gas,  fuel  and  water  ballast  are 
placed  on  board,  so  that  the  ship  may  be  kept  in 
trim  during  the  discharge  of  cargo,  and  so  the 
embarkation  of  passengers  and  stores  be  ef- 
fected. 

When  all  is  ready  to  leave  the  masthead  for 
flight,  the  pulling  of  a  lever  in  the  automatic 
coupling  releases  the  ship.  The  latter  then 
draws  astern  and  upward,  under  the  influence  of 
the  prevailing  wind,  until  it  is  well  clear  of  the 
landing  station  and  can  proceed  on  its  course. 

The  design  of  this  apparatus  is  such  that  the 
landing  of  an  airship  is  as  easy  in  a  wind  as 
in  complete  calm.  "With  its  help  an  airship  can 
land  in  any  speed  of  wind  in  which  it  is  safe  to 
fly.  Should  the  wind  be  so  high  (over  60  or  70 
miles  per  hour)  that  the  vessel  cannot  reach  a 
given  mast,  it  will  always  be  possible  to  learn 
by  wireless  the  nearest  station  at  which  favor- 
able conditions  allow  it  to  come  down. 

The  release  of  the  ship  from  the  mast  can 
take  place  in  any  wind-speed.  Owing  to  the 
comparatively  local  nature  of  a  big  storm 
(storms  are  known  not  to  cover  districts  greater 
than  two  hundred  miles  in  diameter)  the  ves- 
sel, after  slipping  its  moorings,  is  able  to  cir- 
cumnavigate the  disturbed  area  by  making  a 


THE  AIE  AGE  167 

small  initial  deviation  from  the  true  course. 

A  part  of  the  aerodrome  should  be  given  over 
to  aeroplanes,  used  for  the  bringing  of  mails 
and  urgent  freight  from  places  distant  from  the 
terminal.  Heavier-than-air  machines,  in  fact, 
will  be  the  veins  leading  to  the  great  arteries 
of  the  world's  air  routes,  operated  by  dirigibles. 
A  strong  searchlight,  for  the  guidance  of  aero- 
plane pilots  flying  in  fog,  might  be  necessary. 
Given  improved  landing  facilities,  means  might 
be  found  for  them  to  coast  down  the  search- 
light, if  the  ground  away  from  it  were  invis- 
ible. Another  method  of  delivering  mails,  be- 
fore leaving  for  a  landing  ground  away  from 
the  fog  belt,  is  to  drop  them,  attached  to  a  para- 
chute. When  the  package  reaches  earth  it  can 
be  located  by  an  electric  bell,  which  rings  on  im- 
pact and  continues  ringing. 

The  mail  services  of  to-day,  by  railway  and 
boat,  can  in  many  cases  be  greatly  speeded  up 
if  part  of  a  long  journey  be  covered  by  aero- 
plane. A  good  instance  is  the  route  between 
Great  Britain  and  South  America.  If  a  mer- 
chant in  London  posts  three  letters  to  cor- 
respondents in  New  York,  Bio  de  Janeiro  and 
Buenos  Ayres  respectively,  he  may  have  a  reply, 
from  New  York  before  the  Brazil  man  has  had 


168          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

time  to  read  his  communication,  and  four  or 
five  days  before  the  man  in  the  Argentine  has 
received  his.  An  aerial  short  cut  to  Dakar — 
already  several  machines  have  flown  there  from 
Paris — would  lessen  by  six  or  seven  days  the 
transit  time  for  mailbags  sent  from  England  to 
Rio  de  Janeiro  or  Buenos  Ayres. 

As  long  as  the  internal  combustion  engine  is 
used  in  aeronautics,  and  mechanical  failure  is 
always  a  possibility  to  be  reckoned  with,  the 
cost  of  maintaining  aeroplane  routes,  even  if 
they  be  only  auxiliary  to  dirigible  or  steamship 
services,  will  be  greatly  swollen  by  the  need  of 
maintaining  frequent  landing  grounds.  Every 
ten  miles  would  be  an  ideal  interval  for  them; 
every  twenty  miles  is  a  minimum  for  first-rate 
insurance  against  risk.  From  a  height  of  five 
thousand  feet,  the  probable  average  minimum 
elevation  for  commercial  air  navigation,  a  pilot 
can  without  difficulty  cover  a  distance  of  five 
miles  while  planing  down  without  the  aid  of 
motors.  From  ten  thousand  feet  he  can  cover 
ten  miles  under  the  same  conditions;  so  that 
at  this  height  he  would  never  be  outside  glid- 
ing distance  of  landing  grounds  prepared  every 
twenty  miles. 

Given  these  safeguards,  the  element  of  risk 


THE  AIE  AGE  169 

in  present  day  aviation  is  no  greater  than  it 
was  in  the  early  days  of  railways  and  steam- 
boats; and  little,  if  any,  greater  than  in  mod- 
ern motoring.  Many  people,  possessing  only  a 
newspaper  acquaintance  with  aerial  affairs, 
still  believe  mechanical  flight  to  be  perilous. 
In  exactly  the  same  manner  men  shunned  the 
infant  steamboat,  railway  train,  bicycle  and 
motor-car.  Yet,  proportionately,  the  aeroplane 
and  the  dirigible  are  responsible  for  no  more 
deaths  than  the  train  or  the  automobile.  The 
seeming  discrepancy  is  because  so  much  atten- 
tion is  paid  to  air  fatalities.  Every  week-end 
motor-car  accidents  cause  scores  of  fatalities. 
Yet  the  death  in  harness  of  a  single  aviator 
produces  more  comment  than  all  of  these. 
Partly,  no  doubt,  the  intense  horror  with  which 
humanity  regards  death  by  falling  from  a  great 
height  is  due  to  its  novelty  among  human  ex- 
periences. 

The  airways  of  the  world  offer  some  pretty 
problems  of  international  politics,  involving 
commerce,  rights  of  landing,  customs  duties,  air 
smuggling,  air  traffic  regulations  and  air  laws. 
All  these  were  dealt  with  in  the  International 
Aerial  Commission  at  the  Peace  Conference, 
which  agreed  upon  the  following  principles : 


170          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

1.  Recognition  of  the  greatest  possible  free- 
dom of  aerial  navigation,  as  far  as  that  freedom 
of  navigation  is  reconcilable  with  the  principle 
of  the  sovereignty  of  each  state  in  the  air  above 
its  territory,  with  the  security  of  the  state  af- 
fected, and  in  conformity  with  a  strict  enforce- 
ment of  safety  regulations. 

2.  Regulation  under  obligatory  permits  for 
pilots  and  other  aeronautical  personnel  to  be 
recognized  mutually  by  the  signatory  states. 

3.  The    establishment    of    international    air 
rules,    including    signals,    lights,    methods    of 
avoiding  collisions  and  regulations  for  landing. 

4.  The  recognition  of  the  special  treatment  of 
army,  navy  and  state  machines  when  on  duty 
for  the  state. 

5.  Recognition  of  the  right  to  utilize  all  pub- 
lic aerodromes  in  other  states,  under  a  charge 
to  be  uniform  for  the  aircraft  of  all  nations,  in- 
cluding the  home  nation. 

6.  Recognition  of  the  right  of  crossing  one 
country  to  another,  with  the  privilege  of  land- 
ing, but  under  the  reservation  of  the  right  of 
the  state  crossed  to  apply  its  local  rules,  and 
if  necessary  to  force  the  landing  of  the  visiting 
machines  on  signal. 

7.  Recognition  of  the  principle  of  mutual  in- 


THE  AIR  AGE  171 

demnity  to  cover  damages  to  persons  or  prop- 
erty due  to  aircraft — the  state  of  the  offending 
machine  to  make  reparation  and  then  to  recoup 
itself  in  any  way  it  sees  fit. 

8.  Recognition  of  the  necessity  of  a  perma- 
nent international  aeronautical  commission,  in 
order  to  keep  the  development  of  the  legal  side 
of  aviation  abreast  of  the  development  of  the 
science  itself. 

9.  Recognition  of  the  obligation  of  each  state 
to  regulate  its  internal  legislation  along  the 
lines  of  the  clauses  of  the  international  agree- 
ment. 

The  main  airways  of  the  world  are  still  hypo- 
thetical, but  some  of  their  main  terminals,  in 
relation  to  the  centers  of  industry  and  popula- 
tion and  the  trade  routes,  will  certainly  be  Lon- 
don, New  York,  San  Francisco,  Tokio,  Delhi, 
Colombo,  Cairo,  Cape  Town,  and  Rio  de  Ja- 
neiro. In  particular  London,  New  York,  Cairo 
and  Rio  de  Janeiro  are  fitted  to  be  great  junc- 
tions for  air  traffic.  London  is  the  logical  dis- 
tribution center  for  passengers  and  freight 
from  North  and  South  America  bound  for  Con- 
tinental Europe  or  the  East.  The  New  York 
terminal  should  link  the  transatlantic  airways 
from  Europe  with  the  airways  of  North  Amer- 


172          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

ica.  Eio  de  Janeiro  should  perform  the  same 
function  for  South  America,  and  also  be  the 
center  of  seaplane  traffic  up  the  Amazon.  Cairo 
is  destined  to  be  the  junction  for  the  air  routes 
between  Europe,  Asia,  Africa  and  Australia. 
From  it  dirigibles  or  aeroplanes  may  pass  to 
India  (via  Damascus  and  Bagdad),  to  Cape 
Town  (via  Nairobi),  to  Australia  (via  Aden  and 
Colombo,  or  Delhi  and  Singapore),  and  to  Lon- 
don (via  Algiers  or  some  point  in  Southern 
Italy).  Cairo  is  also  likely  to  be  an  important 
base  for  seaplanes  and  flying  boats  plying  up 
and  down  the  tremendous  waterways  of  the  Nile 
and  the  Great  Lakes. 

The  British  Empire  is  especially  bound  up 
with  the  airways  of  the  future.  The  geograph- 
ical position  of  the  Briton  forces  him  to  think 
in  Imperial  terms.  In  1776  Great  Britain  lost 
her  most  valuable  colonies  largely  because  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  made  adequate  representation 
of  the  colonial  interest  physically  impossible. 
Since  that  day  cables,  steamships  and  the  wire- 
less have  helped  to  overcome  the  distances  that 
separate  the  overseas  dominions  from  the  Brit- 
ish Isles.  Aircraft  and  well-organized  British 
air  routes  should  be  the  greatest  step  in  the  con- 
solidation of  the  far-flung  Empire. 


THE  AIR  AGE  173 

To  this  end  British  official  experts  mapped 
out  the  stages  of  the  aerial  route  to  Australia 
from  Egypt,  via  Damascus,  Bagdad,  Karachi, 
Delhi,  Calcutta,  Singapore  and  Sumatra.  Al- 
though the  successive  landing  grounds  were  not 
ready  in  time  for  Captain  Ross-Smith's  mag- 
nificent flight  from  England  to  Australia,  the 
information  and  advice  collected  by  the  official 
surveyors  were  of  inestimable  value  to  him.  It 
is  noteworthy  that  nearly  the  whole  of  the  pro- 
posed airway  from  Egypt  to  Australia  is  over 
British  territory  or  the  sea. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  proposed  route  from 
Cairo  to  Cape  Town.  This  was  planned  out 
very  carefully  by  three  parties  of  military  avia- 
tors, who  covered  the  whole  length  of  civilized 
and  uncivilized  Africa  in  their  search  for  land- 
ing grounds.  The  absorption  of  German  East 
Africa  by  the  South  African  Union  makes  an 
all  British  corridor  for  aircraft  from  Cairo  to 
Cape  Town,  by  way  of  Egypt,  the  Sudan,  Brit- 
ish East  Africa,  British  Central  Africa,  German 
East  Africa,  Rhodesia,  the  Transvaal  and  Cape 
Colony.  There  is  an  alternative  water  route 
over  the  Nile,  the  Great  Lakes,  the  Zambezi 
River  and  along  the  coast  to  Cape  Town.  Be- 
ing the  junction  of  the  airways  to  India,  Aus- 


174          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

tralia  and  South  Africa,  Egypt  is  destined  to 
be  the  nerve  center  of  an  air-linked  British  Em- 
pire, just  as  the  Suez  Canal  has  been  its  jugular 
vein. 

But  the  laying  out  of  great  air  routes  to  the 
East  and  South  does  not  complete  Britain's 
plans.  She  must  connect  them  up  with  London 
— a  task  which  is  much  more  complicated  from 
the  standpoint  of  high  politics,  because  it  in- 
volves routes  over  the  territory  of  other  nations. 
An  aeroplane  can  fly  from  London  to  Cairo  via 
Gibraltar  without  passing  over  foreign  terri- 
tory or  foreign  territorial  waters.  But  the  air 
route  would  be  long  and  the  aerodrome  bases 
great  distances  apart,  in  comparison  with  the 
proposed  land  route  of  two  thousand  miles 
across  France,  down  the  length  of  Italy  and 
Greece  and  across  the  Mediterranean  to  Cairo. 
Such  a  route  necessitates  an  entente  cordiale 
with  the  nations  of  Western  Europe,  and  is  one 
of  the  reasons  why  Great  Britain  can  never  con- 
template easily  a  loosening  of  the  bonds  that 
now  hold  together  the  Allies  of  Western  Eu- 
rope. 

The  French,  for  their  part,  are  also  thinking 
of  air  routes  in  terms  of  their  colonial  posses- 
sions. For  them  the  international  situation  is 


THE  AIR  AGE  175 

much  the  same  as  for  the  London-Cairo  airway. 
French  pilots  need  not  fly  over  foreign  territory 
to  Algiers  or  Morocco.  A  long  flight  across  the 
Mediterranean,  or  skirting  the  west  coast  of 
Spain,  is  a  possibility.  But  Spanish  territory 
is  the  logical  corridor  from  France  to  Africa. 
It  was  over  Spain  that  a  trip  was  made  from 
Toulouse  to  Casablanca,  the  eighteen  hundred 
miles  being  covered  in  eleven  hours  of  actual 
flying.  The  ordinary  postal  service  takes  six 
days.  For  direct  aerial  communication  with 
Syria,  also,  France  must  have  an  entente  with 
several  intervening  countries. 

Not  only  will  the  aeroplane  connect  France 
more  closely  with  Africa;  it  will  likewise  bind 
together  the  various  sections  of  France 's  colo- 
nial territory  in  Africa,  The  Sahara  Desert 
will  become  a  less  formidable  obstacle  to  in- 
tercommunication. French  pilots  have  made 
experimental  flights  over  parts  of  the  Sahara  in 
a  search  for  the  best  routes  and  landing  places, 
as  links  in  communication  between  Morocco  and 
the  Ivory  Coast. 

When  technical  progress  and  perfected  or- 
ganization place  the  world's  main  airways  in 
operation,  there  will  be  enormous  saving  of 
time  on  the  longer  routes.  The  estimated  time 


176          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

for  transatlantic  flights  from  London  to  New 
York  by  the  three  million,  five  hundred  thou- 
sand cubic  feet  dirigibles  is  two  to  two  and  one- 
half  days,  Other  likely  figures  for  various 
services  are  as  follows: 

London  to  India  and  Australia: 

London  to  Cairo 2,050  miles 

Cairo  to  Colombo  (via  Aden) 3,400  miles 

Colombo  to  Perth  (Australia) 3,150  miles 

At  an  average  speed  of  sixty  miles  per  hour, 
and  with  a  stop  of  twelve  hours  at  each  station 
for  re-fueling,  the  times  taken  would  be 

London  to  Cairo 34  hours,  or  l1/^  days 

London  to  Colombo 34  +  12  +  58  hours  =  104 

hours,  or  4^/2  days 

By  train  and  mail  steamer,  the  journey  to 
Ceylon  at  present  takes  fifteen  days,  and  to  Aus- 
tralia over  thirty  days. 

Cairo  to  Cape  Town: 

Cairo  to  British  East  Africa  (Nairobi) 

2,100  miles— 35  hours 

Nairobi  to  Cape  Town 2,200  miles — 37  hours 

Total  time  from  Cairo  to  Cape  Town,  allowing 

for  a  break  of  twelve  hours  at  Nairobi. .  .54  hours 

Owing  to  variation  in  the  weather  conditions, 
latitude  in  estimating  the  time  of  arrival  must 


THE  AIR  AGE  177 

be  permitted  in  each  case.  Where,  however, 
there  is  a  saving  of  several  days  in  comparison 
with  steamship  travel,  the  difference  of  a  few 
hours  matters  little. 

In  years  to  come,  with  the  development 
of  airship  transport  to  the  most  distant  cen- 
ters of  the  world,  it  is  conceivable  that  no  im- 
portant city  will  be  further  from  London  than 
ten  days'  journey.  The  following  table,  as  ap- 
plied to  a  London  terminal,  is  by  no  means  fan- 
tastic : 

To  New  York 2-2%  days 

1 '  San  Francisco 4%  days 

"   Cairo 1%  days 

"   Colombo 4%  days 

"  Perth 7  days 

"  Nairobi 3%  days 

"  Cape  Town 5%  days 

*  *  Rio  de  Janeiro 4  days 

As  the  maximum  distance  of  direct  flight  be- 
tween intermediate  stations  is  not  more  than 
three  thousand,  five  hundred  miles,  it  would  be 
practicable  to  run  these  services  with  the  size 
of  airship  described  three  million,  five  hundred 
thousand  cubic  feet  capacity.  The  cost  of  op- 
eration for  regular  services  would  be  approxi- 
mately as  for  the  Atlantic  service — passengers 


178          FLYING  THE  ATLANTIC 

at  the  rate  of  eight  cents  per  mile,  and  mails  at 
the  rate  of  six  cents  per  ounce.  With  the  de- 
velopment of  larger  airships,  carrying  greater 
loads,  the  cost  should  be  more  economical. 

I  admit  that  such  a  near-Utopia  of  an  air  age 
may  not  be  seen  by  the  present  decade,  and  that 
its  attainment  demands  great  results  from  sci- 
ence, statesmanship  and  business  organization. 
Yet  even  to  come  within  sight  of  world  inter- 
communication as  rapid  as  is  indicated  by  the 
signposts  of  present-day  aeronautics  would 
make  possible  an  era  of  greater  prosperity, 
peace  and  friendliness.  If  people,  their  writ- 
ten communications  and  their  goods  can  be 
taken  from  continent  to  continent  as  quickly,  or 
nearly  as  quickly,  as  a  cablegram,  the  twin  evils 
of  state  parochialism  and  international  misun- 
derstanding will  less  often  be  dragged  from  the 
cupboard  in  which  the  world's  racial  skeletons 
are  kept.  The  airship  and  the  aeroplane  may 
well  become  a  greater  influence  towards  inter- 
nationalization than  the  signed  covenant  of  the 
league  of  nations. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

.yVILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK.  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 

•dAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


00T  27  1933 
W$    9  1934 

FEB     5  1940 

ATT  Sfcft    W47 

Uvl   JOO    9^*1 

2JOc'S3HJ( 

"    ^r«=*         4 

• 

SOi.-, 

•Frn  LD  NOV  2 

a1  73  -9PM 

|tv  U  t*« 

JUN  0  6  2004 

LD  21-100w-7,'33 

YB   15708 


500236 

-r/~J 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


